


A Heart in Shadow

by WiccaSloth



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action, Anxiety Attacks, Assasins, Demons, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fade, Flashbacks, Friendship, Lyrium Addiction, Mystery, Peril, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Build, Traitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:10:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiccaSloth/pseuds/WiccaSloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A traitor creeps in the shadows of Skyhold and strikes without mercy. </p><p>An injured Inquisitor is the target and Commander Rutherford must draw the killer out. But as Cullen's own feelings for the Inquisitor resurfaces after months of repression and as the demons of his past begin to stalk the stone corridors after dark, Cullen fears a member of the Inquisition is holding onto a secret that may destroy them all.</p><p>A standalone story told from the viewpoint of Cullen Rutherford that occurs sometime after the events at Adament Fortress and Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts but before those of What Pride had Wrought.</p><p>NB - I do play with Cullen's early life which I have tried to fit with the canon of the character but it may be too much 'playing' for some fans - sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Message at Midnight

Cullen signed his name at the bottom of another document with a resigned scrawl and laid it to rest on the mounting pile of papers beside him. He dabbed his quill into his ink pot and paused when the familiar whistling of wind through the gaps beneath his doorway gave way to the distant sounds of human voices somewhere below in the keep. Those far off voices were raised and Cullen wondered how likely it was that cook was working late again and railing upon some poor scullery maid in the kitchen.

Rubbing the fresh stubble on his jaw line, he chuckled to himself as he recalled what had happened mere days earlier with regard to some imported cherries from Val Royeux and a freshly made steaming cherry pie intended for a gathering of Orlesian tradesmen and women at the behest of Josephine, a pie that first went missing from the kitchen and then mysteriously reappeared in the barracks. A grateful soldier had taken a bouquet of flowers to Cook to show his thanks but he had not expected to face accusations of theft or the sharp strike of a ladle to the shin. Commander Cullen had been called in to investigate and when details of Cook’s memory fog had been related to him he had known full well that their newest member of the Inquisition, the displaced spirit-come-human called Cole, was responsible for the pie donation.

Cullen had left it at that and reassured Cook that the theft was not one of malicious intent but a misplaced sense of “do-goodery”. Cook had been vocally dis-satisfied with Cullen’s investigative work but had grudgingly accepted the soldiers’ flowers and had, the very next day, made the barracks another hot pie with the promise that whenever spare ingredients were available, which was becoming increasingly common thanks to the work of the Inquisition, there would be pie for the soldiers. It turns out that cooks like receiving flowers after all.

It was good to take stock of moments of normalcy whenever they popped up and Cullen smiled again as his mind turned elsewhere; to a memory of a kiss.

Cullen heard more shouting. A door somewhere in the keep opened and slammed and laying his quill down he paused to listen. He tracked the sound of footsteps on the flagstones from the lower courtyard and hastily up the stone steps towards his quarters on the battlements. Pushing himself from his chair he moved towards the door just as a loud knock rattled it in its frame.

“It’s the middle of the night, what is it?” Cullen was annoyed. He had been enjoying his daydream and it made him reluctant to be disturbed. The door banged again.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming.” The door swung wide as an icy gust of wind swept into the room blowing at the fireplace and at the candles, making the firelight dart to and fro into every darkened corner like demented fairies.

“Leliana?”

Cullen was surprised to see before him his spy master dressed in her nightgown with a thick woolen cloak wrapped around her shoulders as if she had been recently awoken. She rarely if ever came to his room in the north tower and never whilst making so much noise; that in itself was enough to make him worry.

“Cullen, I have news. You are needed. Come with me.” Leliana’s composure was somehow ruptured and Cullen felt his heart begin to pound as he searched her usually implacable face for clues.

“What is it? The horn has not blown, are we under attack?” Cullen turned to his sword rack to arm himself. Leliana stopped him.

“No. Come.” she said. 

Leliana beckoned him to follow and Cullen knew that something, somewhere had gone very wrong.

“Follow me, I will tell you all I know,” she slipped from the room and into the blackness beyond. His mind searched for a reason why his spy master would disturb him in the depths of the night and the answer came to him like an unwelcome guest.

“The Inquisitor…” he whispered and Cullen ran after Leliana into the night.


	2. In the Company of Secrets

A small crowd had gathered in the lower bailey and small flame torches shone their ineffectual light upon what looked to be a small horse drawn cart. Cullen raced down the stone steps and as he and Leliana drew closer, he saw Cassandra leaning heavily upon one of the guardsman, a deep gash on her shoulder oozed thick blackened blood but she pushed away an offered cup of water when she saw them approach. 

“Make way for the Commander,” ordered Leliana and the small crowd parted allowing Cullen to see what it was they had gathered around. 

Cullen drew close to the cart and looked down upon an unconscious Inquisitor who lay on a matting of straw, a blanket had been placed beneath her head and Cullen noticed at once the blood that had darkened and matted her hair and the shredded tunic that revealed a spider’s web of deep bruising from her ribs to her hip.

“What happened?” he whispered softly, at once afraid to touch her.

The crowd around him was silent as a state of impenetrable shock had settled upon them. They all looked to one another for answers. Cullen tore his eyes from the Inquisitor and swung around, his eyes fierce with intent.

“What happened?” he demanded. The guardsman beside him took a step backwards and looked to the ground. 

Cassandra stepped forward on shaky legs and Leliana moved in to support her.

“We were attacked at the camp in the Exhalted Plains. It was a safe area, claimed by the Inquisition weeks ago. There was no need to suspect an attack…” Her voice began to shake and tears sprang to her eyes as she continued “I was careless. It was my job to keep her safe. I’m sorry Cullen. I’m so very sorry.”

Cullen did not respond but instead turned to address the guard beside her.

“You. Has the surgeon been called for?” he demanded, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

“Ser. Yes ser.” The guardsman stood to attention.

“Well where is she?” Cullen growled.

“I don’t know Commander,” the guard seemed to know this answer was lacking.

“Well find her!” Cullen bellowed. The guard jumped, took to his heel and ran into the gloom his flaming torch held high. 

Cullen kept his back to the Inquisitor and struggled to maintain his focus in the face of everyone around him losing theirs. He clung to it as he had learnt always to do when he was too close to something or in this case to someone. Brushing up close to the thought of losing the Inquisitor was to approach his breaking point. So he focused. His training may have been responsible for much that was now wrong in his life but it allowed him the mercy of control in devastating circumstances such as these.

“Leliana, do we have private ground quarters available for the Inquisitor? We must get her into the warm. She must be kept securely and under guard at all times.” Cullen sought her eyes but found them staring beyond him. He braced her by her shoulders and shook her, more vigorously than he meant to.

“Yes. Of course.” Leliana stammered; “a room adjacent to the chapel in the courtyard will be suitable. I will go and have it prepared,” she looked around her. “You,” Leliana motioned towards a serving girl who stood clinging onto a recently emptied chamber pot, - “you come with me.”

“Yes my Lady,” the young woman bowed her head, her eyes wide with the palpable shock of what they all feared, the possible demise of the Inquisitor – the loss of the Herald of Andraste herself.

Cullen addressed the small gathering.

“What you have seen here tonight is to be forgotten. If anyone speaks of this the Spy Master will hear of it, do not doubt that. You will be imprisoned in the dungeon if you are lucky and dropped from the highest point on Skyhold if I decide otherwise. Be warned, this is no empty threat. No one is to know that the Inquisitor has been…” Cullen chose his words carefully before continuing “…injured. Not our enemies and not our allies. The fate of the entire Inquisition relies on us here keeping this a secret. You know now what you knew this morning, that the Inquisitor is not in Skyhold and no more, is that understood?”

The soldiers saluted their assent and the servants who had been caught up in this drama nodded vigorously. Their stumbling upon this incident made them all keepers of this secret and had thrust them into the inner machinations of the Inquisition. Some of them looked as if they had never seen the Inquisitor up close or even been spoken to by the Commander. Cullen did not recognize half of them. Leliana gave him a look as she left as if to say they'd be lucky keeping this secret. Cullen knew that the truth would come out eventually but the longer that took the longer he had to work out exactly what had happened and how to proceed.

“Commander? May I speak?” Solas stood, unnoticed until now, to the side of the cart and he held the Inquisitors left hand in his. It glowed with a soft healing blue light and Cullen recognised that it was possibly only Solas’ presence that kept the Inquisitor amongst the living.

“Solas,” Cullen nodded for him to continue.

Solas spoke slowly as if the effort threatened to break his concentration. “My magic is waning but I cannot stop the incantation. We need a healer who can continue the spell. I can feel her drifting from me. Please…” 

“I will go for the healer myself. Can you hold on for another few moments?” said Cullen.

“Yes, yes…I believe so, but make haste Commander for all our sakes.”

The Commander directly addressed the two Guards who had been assigned the night watch duty.

“Draw your swords and protect the Inquisitor. Whilst she is incapacitated, she is vulnerable and assassins are everywhere. With your lives!” he ordered.

The two Guards saluted.

“Aye Ser. With our lives.” The Guard on the right was female but with her helmet on it was hard to tell. Cullen knew them both and they were sensible veteran soldiers. The two guards drew their swords and stood either side of the cart.

Cullen turned in the direction of the recently built mage tower and made to leave in search of a mage healer.

“Cullen?” Cassandra stepped forward as if she meant to block the Commanders path. Her eyes were wide with fear and Cullen was momentarily repulsed by it. He recognised that fear in himself. 

“What should I do?” Cassandra looked to Cullen and he realised that like him, she needed something tangible to hook herself onto, a soldier’s task. He noted her pallid sweating skin and her blood soaked uniform. Cullen softened slightly but only enough.

“Keep watch for the surgeon and ensure that you too get your injuries seen to. Then rest. I will find you at first light for a full report. That is all Seeker.” The use of her title made Cassandra’s spine straighten slightly and in that smallest of movements she seemed to reclaim something of herself that at first glance appeared broken. Perhaps instead it was merely bruised, Cullen thought. He hoped as much.

Cullen left the group at a run, the buckles on his boots jangling noisily. He did not see Sera’s small form crouched in the dark a little way away, nor did he see her gently rocking back and forth, nor her face wet and shining with tears.


	3. Harbinger

Cullen paced the deserted garden courtyard and would only stop in order to watch who entered and who left the room assigned to Elspeth for clues as to her condition. It was only an hour or so before sunrise and the sky at this altitude in the mountains was a luminous ice-blue and it seemed to colour everything.

Vapour streamed out of Cullen’s nostrils as his breath drove shallow into his chest and out again. He intermittently shook his fur coat around himself in some futile effort to keep the cold from creeping further into his bones. 

He rubbed at his temples with one hand as his head had begun to pound, the blood rushing through his skull like a thunderous storm through a narrow mountain pass. The migraine could be attributed to his body crying out for a dose of lyrium or for someone to put him out of his misery and tell him that the Inquisitor was out of danger. One thing he did know and that was that he was struggling to cope. 

“Hello,” said a soft voice.

Cullen turned to see a young dark haired boy standing directly in his path forcing him to stop his pacing. Cullen did not like standing still as his worries threatened to spill over and overwhelm him.

“Hello,” Cullen replied as he looked around for signs that this boy belonged to someone. 

“My name is Kieran. And that is my room up there,” the boy Kieran pointed over his shoulder. “I live there with my mother. She snores.”

“You are Morrigan’s son,” Cullen identified. 

“I could hear you from my bedroom,” the boy didn’t sound annoyed, his comment was purely conversational and his tone was almost sing song.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t considered that my being here would keep you awake. I will endeavor to pace more quietly,” said Cullen.

The door to Elspeth’s room squealed open and a maid scuttled away carrying what appeared to be a bowl filled with bloody rags. The door slammed shut behind her and Cullen released a long shaky breath.

“She’ll wake up,” Kieran peered up into Cullen’s face examining his reaction which was one of surprise and then surprisingly, relief.

“How did you…?” Cullen asked.

“The danger has followed her here though,” Kieran added “I’m not really meant to say anything. Mother would be angry with me but I thought that you needed to know.” Kieran walked away from Cullen towards the stone steps that led to his quarters. Perhaps it was his Templar training that made Cullen’s senses tingle even without the steady stream of lyrium in his veins.

“What are you boy?” Cullen was on unsteady ground and he knew it, “…an apostate like your mother?”

Kieran turned to face Cullen, his face one of innocence but his voice belied a calm sort of malice.

“I am nothing like my mother,” Kieran said and Cullen was left alone once more.

He contemplated the young boys warning; the danger has followed her. Cullen was a logical man who lived in illogical times but damn it if he didn't believe the lad! 

Spurred on by the boys cryptic warning Cullen could stand no more waiting and taking to his heel he strode to the door of Elspeth’s room. He stood with his fist ready to knock on the door and yet he remained neither striking the door nor moving away. 

He retracted his fist and instead he pulled at his neck in anguish. He had seen hundreds of Soldiers, Templars, Maker’s Breath! Civilians! Dead and dying from all manner of accursed wounds, torn apart, bodies shattered and broken and yet begging for more life, just one more sweet breath. Yet here he stood, unable to bear further witness to the Inquisitors injuries should they prove fatal. 

A delicate cough from behind him made him start.

“Excuse me Sire...” the Surgeon’s assistant had returned with fresh water and a steaming pile of cloth covered in a poultice that was redolent with pine and deep dank earth. 

“Yes of course,” Cullen said as he stood to one side to allow the young woman to enter. She pushed the door open a crack and slipped inside the room. Cullen slapped one hand to the door to prevent it from closing fully and after a breath he peeked inside. 

The Inquisitor lay as she had lain on the cart, eyes closed as if sleeping. He found himself longing to see those eyes return his gaze as she had often done from across the large oak War Table. What a fool he had felt under the full glare of those hazel eyes. He would mumble his words when she surprised him as he turned a corner in the Keep and would stumble over nonexistent stones in the courtyard like a lovesick farm boy when she smiled at him, a smile that had the power to tear his heart asunder. That heart now thudded hard behind his breastplate. He was a fool for her and he knew it. It was ridiculous! She was the Inquisitor and deserved his respect not his fawning adoration.

Cullen threw his gaze to the ceiling.

“Commander, either come in or go out. You are letting the warmth escape,” said the surgeon as she worked.

“Yes, yes of course. I apologise,” he said and yet he dallied between leaving and staying. Finally he moved into the room, pulled the door to with a click and slid the bolt across. 

The fire in the room was in fact stifling in comparison to the freezing outside air and Cullen slipped his coat from his shoulders and he draped it across a wooden chair that had been propped against the opposite wall. 

The Inquisitor looked so fragile and small in the wooden framed bed. Her armour had been removed and only a light sheet covered her. Her pale arms lay by her side and Cullen saw her knuckles were bloodied and bruised as if she had been caught in a fist fight. At once he stepped towards her.

“Why would a mage look as if she has been punching a wall?” he asked the surgeon.

“That…” said the surgeon as she lay a third poultice layer onto Elspeth’s forehead “is a very good question Commander.”

Cullen flapped his hand at her, “please, in here call me by my name. I have no energy to expend enforcing military formalities. Cullen.” He watched as she tended to the wound on Elspeth’s head.

“And I am Alyson.” She replied. Alyson gestured to Elspeth’s head “I am concerned about this head wound Comman, erm…Cullen.” The surgeon seemed uncomfortable with the lack of formality and it turned out so was Cullen.

“I have cleaned the injury and this salve will ensure the wound stays clean and the blood clots but the mage healer identified what I feared, a fracture in the skull. The mage did what they could to help bind the bone and now all we can do is wait.” Alyson looked down at the Inquisitor. 

Cullen stepped forward and tentatively brushed a lock of Elspeth's hair from her face, no longer concerned with the presence of the surgeon or of her assistant who hovered behind them.

The surgeon spoke.

“It is up to her now.”


	4. Of Monsters and Madness

“I thought we could talk…alone?” asked the Inquisitor.

The question caught Cullen off guard.

“Alone? I mean, of course,” he replied. All of a sudden his quarters felt airless and dank. He gestured with one arm to the door.

“Would you like to take in some air?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be nice.” Elspeth broke the eye contact that had suddenly become intense and he followed her as she walked out into the sunshine. 

He caught himself gazing at the light brown hairs that curled around her ears, the smooth skin on her neck and the movement of her hips as she walked.

He admonished himself for being so base. 

She terrified him like no other and her presence dragged feelings to the fore that made him feel very, very uncomfortable. He tore his eyes skyward to the snow tipped horizon beyond the battlements. There was a long pause.

“It’s a…nice day.” Cullen’s voice cracked as he walked beside her. He cleared his throat with an embarrassed laugh.

“What?” Asked the Inquisitor, turning to him.

She too had been lost in her own thoughts it seemed.

“It’s…there was something you wished to discuss,” Cullen replied. Yes, he thought, better. Let us keep this professional. Maker allow me that!

She paused and looked up at him as if searching for the courage to speak the words.

“Cullen, I care for you, and…” the words appeared to catch in her throat. Cullen took a step closer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, all thoughts of professional conduct vanishing in an instant.

She looked to him, those hazel eyes warm but he detected a mote of fear in the way she looked from him to the floor.

“You left the Templars, but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?” She displayed her vulnerability so openly and with such trust. He envied her that.

Cullen was quick to reply.

“I could, I mean…I do,” he closed the gap between them and softened his voice “…think of you and what I might say in this sort of situation.”

He rubbed at his forehead with one hand. He did not want to admit that her being a mage was a problem for him. He had spent much of his adult life thinking of mages not as people but as potential maleficarum. They were to be watched, carefully monitored and then struck down quickly were they to be tempted by magic beyond the reach of the Circles of Magi. He had done so and often and without remorse. But that was then.

“What is stopping you?” Elspeth’s eyes were imploring.

Cullen’s stomach clenched at the thought of having her be his. He had never allowed himself the belief that he might find…someone.

“You are the Inquisitor. We’re at War. And you…” he moved closer, hopeful “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“And yet I’m still here,” she raised one eyebrow as if daring him to act.

“So you are, it seems too much to ask…but I want to,” Cullen placed his hand lightly on Elspeth’s hip and his heart which had been racing appeared to slow as he moved in to kiss her.

“Commander!” 

They both jumped. Their kiss unrealized. Cullen’s anger flared and he turned to face the agent who had deemed it necessary to interrupt them.

"What?" he snarled.

Cullen was shocked to see it was not an agent sent by Leliana as he had, strangely, been anticipating but Sera. She stood with her hands on her hips. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as if she delighted in catching the two of them in the act.

“Well bloody hell you two! It’s about blinking time.”

“Sera?” Cullen asked confused. 

This wasn’t right. Why wasn’t this right?

“Well go on then! Kiss her quick before she turns to stone,” she teased, waving her hands in the air as she spoke, “you wouldn’t catch me passing up this opportunity but then there’s no accounting for taste.”

Cullen looked skywards and wondered for a moment why it was now night and why the sun on his face had turned cold.

There was a loud crack behind him as a shaft of green lightning struck the flagstones. He swung around in time to witness a rage demon manifest before his eyes, its scaled form like lava that had cooled and then split.

“Sera! Get back!” He shouted to the Elf.

Cullen maneuvered Elspeth behind him with one arm and held the other out in front in place of a shield. His need to protect was instinctive. He cursed aloud when he thought of his sword in his room and not at his side.

An Emerald crystal grew and cracked wider then longer in the sky above them and green ribbons of light shimmered in the blackness. It was almost beautiful. The rage demon did not advance but stood as if observing Cullen.

“Sera! I said get away!”

Sera too stood watching Cullen. The mocking smile on her lips had gone and tears fell from her eyes. She looked a truly pitiful creature.

“Sera?”

The demon vanished before him and in its place stood the Inquisitor, no longer behind him at all. Remnants of the fade twisted themselves around her body but they did not come from the breach above them but seemed to leach from the mark on her hand.

“Elspeth…” he took a step towards her but she merely laughed and as she did a trickle of blood ran from her nostril. Her armour was bloodied and ripped and at last she spoke.

“Help me Cullen,” she begged in a voice that was half hers and half the demons “I don’t want to suffer. Please help me…”

The entirety of Skyhold shook and appeared to spin and raise into the air as if the columns of stone had been ripped from the earth below. Cullen struggled to stay standing as a pain lanced white hot behind his eyes. He doubled over. He felt madness not for the first time in his life, pull at the delicate tendrils of his sanity, trying to unwind it.

He watched helpless as Elspeth’s body was torn apart by the rage demon that had taken control of her.

“No!” he yelled, but the shout was whipped away by a ferocious wind and tumbled to fall on deaf ears. Cullen fell to the cold stones beneath his feet and wept.


	5. Withdrawal

“Commander!” 

Cullen was shaken awake by a looming Cassandra.

“Wha…what?” he felt dazed and bruised from his nightmare. He was still in Elspeth’s room in the courtyard at Skyhold and had fallen asleep rather uncomfortably on a wooden chair that was all too small for his body. 

“How is she?” Cassandra asked as she looked down upon the Inquisitors still sleeping form. 

“I don’t know” said Cullen “I was hoping that she might have awoken by now.” He rubbed his hand across his stiffened neck, his mouth was dry and his headache slowly returned.

Cassandra raked her eyes over the Commander.

“You look worse than I feel,” she admonished, “are you alright?”

Images from his dream were refusing to dissipate completely and it left his nerves raw and his thoughts jumbled; the image of watching Elspeth torn apart would not leave him.

“I did not sleep well,” replied Cullen hoping that would be the end of it.

“Well I’d hardly think that was surprising” Cassandra gestured to the small wooden chair and then she held out a piece of paper.

“My report as requested.” She stated simply.

“Ah yes of course, by first light.” Cullen took the parchment from her hands. “What time is it?” 

He stood and retrieved his coat which had been carefully hung on an iron hook by the door whilst he slept.

“It is several hours later than first light. I assumed you would be here but found you sleeping and left,” said Cassandra.

“You should have woken me,” said Cullen.

“Oh I tried, but that ferocious surgeon shooed me away like a pest” she complained.

“I see” Cullen smiled a half smile at the image of the mighty Cassandra being chased off by a five foot nothing healer, it was about all he could manage in the circumstances.

Cassandra stepped back to stand beside Elspeth’s bed and sighed deeply. He noticed the dark circles beneath Cassandra’s eyes and realized that she too had barely slept. Cullen was slowly coming to understand that during these long cold months in Skyhold even the untouchable Seeker had come to care for the Inquisitor, both for the work she had done as the figurehead of the Inquisition and as a friend. It was the sign of a good leader to have those around you care for your welfare. It meant that Elspeth had been doing a good job. He hoped that she knew that. 

“And what does it say?” Cullen asked as he held the report up.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Cassandra raised her eyebrows.

“I will but I was hoping to hear it from you first hand,” said Cullen.

“Very well.”

Cassandra spoke after a long time, her voice was soft and her accent more pronounced through tiredness.

“It was the middle of the night. I had taken to the tent some hours earlier as I believe had Solas - I do not often enjoy the stories that Sera chooses to tell around the camp fire late at night. Her voice after so many hours together can become wearisome and her tales are often told with an eye to the ridiculous-” She looked to Cullen, he nodded to indicate that she should continue. 

“I was awoken by shouting. The Inquisitor was not in her bed roll and I was worried. I discovered a number of Venatori assassins had infiltrated the camp and killed several of our Inquisition camp soldiers. I watched as the Inquisitor was attacked from behind. She was knocked to the ground and I saw that she was bleeding from the head. As I moved to her I too was set upon and took a blade to my shoulder.” She absently touched her hand to right shoulder which Cullen saw had been bandaged.

“And what happened to the Venatori agents? Were they killed?” Cullen asked.

“Fled…but Cullen,” Cassandra held one hand to her mouth, “I had dismissed a contingent of our forces only the day before, some thirty soldiers, sending them back to Skyhold. I had felt it safe enough to do so. I was a fool...”  
There was a tap at the door.

“One moment,” called Cullen. He turned back to Cassandra.

“You could not have predicted this attack. We can anticipate only so much,” he said as he stepped to her and laid one hand on her uninjured shoulder, “however I find it odd that the Inquisitor could have been subdued so easily, according to your earlier reports she has become a formidable opponent.”

“I can only imagine that it was because it was late, perhaps she was half asleep and taken by surprise,” replied Cassandra by way of explanation.

“And yet she wore her full armour despite the lateness of the hour?” Cullen watched Cassandra. She shook her head as if unsure of her own memories.

“I…” she began before a renewed bang rattled the door in its frame.

“Alright!” shouted Cullen and he released the bolt on the door and pulled it open. A stream of sunlight beamed into the room. Cullen raised his hand to shield his eyes but not before the sunlight had fanned the flames of the pounding in his head.

Dorian stood before him, his silver buckles bright in the daylight and his hair as smooth as marble.

“Ah, there you are Commander. We have been searching for you,” he said. Varric stood beside him, worry etched onto his dwarven features.

“We heard what happened to the Inquisitor. How is she?” said Varric as he stepped over the threshold and peered to the side of Cullen in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Elspeth.

“Alright, both of you. Out!” Cassandra ordered, waving them back out of the room.

“Oh come on Seeker! You have to tell us something. What’s going on? Is she in there or isn’t she?” Varric complained, his usual breezy continence absent.

“So much for secrets” Cullen muttered to himself.

“If you were hoping to keep this a secret Commander then you should really learn not to rely on the mouths of servants. I know that I never do,” said Dorian glibly. Cullen glared.

“But really now Commander, how is she? May we speak with her?” Dorian requested.

“She is still unconscious for now” answered Cullen. He cast one final long look at Elspeth before he pulled the door closed quietly behind him as if the sound might disturb her or at the very least interrupt her healing.

“Well do we know what happened? I heard whispers of Venatori involvement and by whispers I mean yours just now as I was eavesdropping,” said Dorian. He shifted his body weight from one leg to the other and back again as if his impatience at being kept out of the loop made him physically uncomfortable.

“Dorian as soon as I know what happened, you will be informed. For now you can help by keeping this to yourselves.”

“Too late for that dear boy.” Dorian stepped back with a flourish to reveal behind him an unusually large gathering of gardeners, Chantry officiates and servants in the courtyard whispering behind closed hands to one another and watching them all intently. Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples, a light sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead.

“Commander, we can stand guard… ” offered Varric.

“We?” Dorian asked incredulously.

“Yes, we," said Varric, "or is your concern for the Inquisitor as vapid as your dress sense Sparkler?”

“What a rude little man,” said Dorian.

“I am not a man,” snarled Varric as he stepped up into Dorian hoping, it appeared, to initiate some kind of violent altercation.

“Enough both of you!” shouted Cassandra, “It’s a wonder we ever get anything done at all the way you two carry on.”

“Well that’s a bit rich coming from you my dear” admonished Dorian.

“And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” Cassandra replied. Tensions were frayed and tempers running hot in the wake of the attack.

“Stop this.” Cullen took a different approach and lowered his voice. “Dorian, Varric - the offer of keeping guard is appreciated.” Cullen gestured to the crowd in the courtyard garden. “It seems the keep and his dog know the Inquisitor is in here so I would prefer it if the Inquisitions strongest fighters kept watch.”

Dorian spoke. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Very well Commander but I still insist on knowing the conclusion of your report as soon as you have it. If the Venatori were to blame then I may be able to help track down the individuals responsible… with Leliana’s assistance.”

“Thank you Dorian. I appreciate that.” Cullen felt hot, the skin beneath his fur collar was on fire and not all of it could be attributed to the unseasonal warmth of the sun, “now if you will all excuse me.” 

Cullen strode away leaving Cassandra, Varric and Dorian arguing about something or other. How the Inquisitor put up with them all was a matter far beyond his comprehension. He couldn't stand to hear any more of their bickering.

Cullen felt light headed. He knew that a single dose of lyrium was all it would take to bring him back into the moment. Just one. 

No! Elspeth had convinced him that he had the strength to stop taking Lyrium for good. She believed in him as he had not dared to believe in himself for a very long time. Even now he clung to her belief. He needed to focus and to control the erratic emotions that seemed to be responsible for every spike of pain and every bead of sweat.

But the fact remained that with the Inquisitor injured, more fade rifts would appear across Thedas and that meant more demons. Corypheus was still out there, his assassins could very well have infiltrated Skyhold and be waiting to administer their death sentence. A life without Elspeth, he realised was no life at all. Not one that he could bear. 

All was lost! As his fears raced through his mind unchallenged, Cullen found his breathing more difficult. His lungs could not take in enough air to power him and his heart beat ever faster. Throwing himself through the next doorway he stumbled away from view clutching at his chest.

Two long pale hands gripped his arms and led him towards a wooden bench. He slumped back onto it. It was cool and dark here, no windows and only cold stone. He sat for some time until his eyes adjusted slowly to the dim candlelight.

“Commander Cullen, are you alright?” Solas said after a time. He knelt before him. “You appear unwell. Perhaps I can fetch someone for you?”

“No!” said Cullen, a little too urgently, “no, Solas. I thank you but no.” Cullen straightened and took one long breath as his lungs appeared to relinquish their earlier paralysis. The heat Cullen had felt had turned to ice and he shivered.

“Commander this may not be the best time to speak with you but I feel that it is of great import.”

Cullen waved his hand at Solas as if to encourage him to speak,

“The Inquisitor was attacked but I do not know by whom. The Seeker lay blame on Venatori agents whom she witnessed at the scene.”

“She said you were in your bed sleeping...”

“That is true, I awoke to find the Inquisitor already unconscious but also to see Cassandra give chase. But to what or to whom I do not know.” 

“What are you saying Solas?” Cullen leant forward as if to hear Solas more clearly.

“Commander, there was no one there but us.”


	6. The Herald's Rest

Cullen pushed the door to the Heralds Rest wide and entered. The door slammed shut behind him and a myriad of faces, some he recognized, lifted from their drinks to stare back at him. 

Whatever song the tavern bard had been playing tailed off and the silence left an empty space; Cullen stood a little straighter as if his body could fill it. He was not a man who spent much time in taverns. This was, in fact, the first time he had entered this one. He always felt that it would not do to socialize with ones charges. As his responsibility had grown over the years the more he had distanced himself from those whose destiny’s he held like glass in his hands.

A handful of soldiers slid their drinks to one side and retrieving their helmets from chairs beside them they left the bar in a hurry, with heads lowered. Cullen ignored them and scoured the room. She was not here. Then where? He had been informed by Leliana that Sera had made her home in the tavern.

“Commander Cullen!” a voice boomed from beyond the staircase.

It was the Iron Bull. Of course it was, Cullen thought. So this was where the hulking Qunari spent his days. Cullen was not in the least surprised. 

“Come! Pull up a chair!” Invited Iron Bull.

As Cullen approached, Bull kicked out a seat for him and shouted beyond him to the bar.

“Cabot! Two Dragons Piss for me and the Commander!” he ordered.

“I’m not here to drink Iron Bull.” 

“Nonsense, of course you are. It is implied by the mere fact you are standing beneath this roof. Nothing happens for no reason Commander and today, for you, that reason is drink!” Iron Bull downed what remained of the liquid at the bottom of his tankard and pushed it to one side. He was building up quite a collection of empty cups.

Cabot approached carrying two more large tankards and placed them onto the table in front of them. The flagons had been overfilled and some of the contents sloshed onto the table. The dwarf gave Commander Cullen a sympathetic look.

“On the house,” said Cabot as he pushed his too-large hands into his pockets.

“That’s not necessary.” Cullen felt annoyed with the dwarf. More for the pitying look than the assumption that he could not pay for his own drinks.

“Of course it’s necessary! You are the great Commander Cullen and most welcome here! Is he not Krem?” boomed Bull.

“He sure is Chief.” Iron Bull's Lieutenant Aclassi, who went by the name Krem, sat to one side; his back against the wall with one leg crossed over the other. Cullen had recently come to understand that the Iron Bull had lost his eye whilst rescuing Krem from Tevinter authorities. It had changed his opinion of the Qunari for the better. He had come to see that there was honour in that hulking mass of muscle and horn and not merely blood lust and lust in general.

“How much have you had to drink?” Cullen asked Iron Bull raising an eyebrow.

“What? Are we counting? I never count drinks Commander, only sexual encounters. It’s a rule of mine.” Iron Bull lifted his drink and raised it to the ceiling.

“May the Herald rest well and be back drinking with us soon! The Heralds Rest!” he bellowed.

A chorus of slurring voices joined Bull in his toast from each corner of the tavern as if the people here, although sat apart, were communal in their concern for the Inquisitor. Cullen looked around the inn and recognized the dent in the peoples morale and for all of Iron Bulls posturing, he saw it also in him.

Bull took a long slurp of his ale and with the tankard still held to his lips and mid swallow, he looked with his one beady eye back at the Commander. Cullen shifted on his chair. Today was not a day for annoying drunken Qunari. Cullen picked up his own flagon of ale and raised it.

“Heralds Rest” said Cullen. The mere mention of Elspeth made his chest tighten painfully. He lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed one mouthful and then another and another. The warm frothy liquid was bitter but in some small way it helped to calm him a little. It's touch was merely a tickle where lyrium was a hammer. He took a final last gulp and placed it back down on the table with a satisfied gasp.

The Iron Bull laughed heartily and slapped the Commander hard on the back making Cullen splutter as the ale was deviated into his windpipe.

“That’s the way! The way of the Iron Bull!” he called out.

Cullen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his mind returned to the investigation.

“I’m looking for Sera. Where is she?” Cullen asked, turning to glance over his shoulder as if she might appear at any moment.

“Ah yes. Sera. Somethings not right there. Her rooms directly above” Bull pointed up, “and I definitely heard some smashing and banging going on earlier. Then silence. I’d go up and see to her myself but frankly Commander, Sera can be terrifying when she’s in a bad mood.”

“Are we talking about the same Sera?” A small smile took up residence at the corner of his mouth.

“Far be it for me to say that the Iron Bull is afraid of a little elf-girl...” Bull leant in close to Cullen and Cullen gave him his ear. “But be careful with that one Commander. There’s a certain unpredictability about her, a wildness to the eyes. We may all be killers with hearts of gold but some hearts are more tarnished than others if you catch my meaning.”

“I fear you have just described every member of the Inquisition my friend.” Cullen chuckled.

“Ha! You could be right there commander. Except perhaps for Josephine. Not so enamored with the killing so far as I know but there’s more gold there than I’d know how to spend in a lifetime.” He chuckled and took another mouthful of his drink.

“I promise to be wary.” Cullen promised and standing he turned to the wooden staircase behind him.

“Oh and Commander Cullen?”

“Yes Iron Bull?” Cullen did not think it possible but Bull appeared to soften.

“I am sorry about the Inquisitor. I know that the two of you were...close. If you need anything doing, any heads smashing or bones crunching then you know where I am. I’m ready.” 

Cullen gave Iron Bull a nod and took his leave. As he climbed the stairs he could hear Iron Bull talking either to himself or to his Lieutenant.

“Tal-va-fucking-shoth!” he exclaimed.

“More drink over here!” shouted Krem and within moments the music had struck up once more and the ripples caused by Cullen’s presence began to smooth away.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Cullen picked at the trinkets, snuff boxes, books and other mementos that lined the shelves in the small upstairs room of the tavern that Sera had taken for herself. A shaft of late afternoon sun shone past the diamond leading in the windows and crisscrossed shadows against the walls. Cullen surveyed the room and he wondered how Sera had managed to fit so much rubbish into such a small space. As if to demonstrate the point Cullen stubbed his toe on an oaken chest and swore. As he turned back around he knocked his head on a low hanging flower basket causing it to swing wildly.

“Andraste preserve me!” he muttered as he stopped the pendulous movement of the basket with one hand. He stood very still waiting for all of the flotsam and disturbed dust to settle in the room and allowed himself time to acclimatize to his surroundings and think carefully before he moved too much one way or another. This was not a room for large men, especially not men wearing pauldrons, he thought ruefully. 

He looked from one of the open windows down onto the courtyard below and watched for a moment the people who milled about doing whatever it was they had all come to Skyhold to do. He half expected the occupants to be in floods of inconsolable tears or for silence to have swept the entire Keep. Perhaps the news of the attack had not yet reached everyone.

The large wooden door to the smithy across the way opened and Cassandra exited. She stood for a moment, her hands placed high on her hips and her cropped dark hair danced furiously in the Skyhold wind. She looked troubled. Cullen watched her until she walked out of sight.

There was no-one there but us, Solas had said. 

What did that mean? That Cassandra was lying? When it came to questioning the loyalty of an ex-Seeker of Truth versus an apostate Elven mage; Cullen knew every time where he would put his money. But someone was lying. He had hoped that Sera would be able to tell him who and more importantly, why? What possible reason would Solas have to cast doubt upon Cassandra? Conversely, why would Cassandra lie about what she had seen? 

“Where are you Sera?” Cullen asked to thin air, exasperated. He realized that in the commotion of the previous night’s events he had not seen her. He hoped that she was alright.

A crash from behind startled Cullen. The bone of some kind of creature that had been on one of the higher shelves now rattled on the floor. He bent to pick it up and as he did so a brown shadow shifted in the corner of his vision. When he turned to look there was nothing there. Cullen felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as if he were being watched. He had written enough reports on this phenomenon to know exactly what was going on.

“Cole? Are you here? Show yourself at once.” Cullen ordered.

A shuffle to his right made Cullen spin and there he was as Cullen had suspected. Cole perched crossed legged atop a small round wooden table. His dusty hair was long and brushed the tip of his nose. His body was thin but belied the deadly force that the young lad, or whatever he was, had at his disposal. 

“She’s not here. Gone. Only half full even now. Sera the nothing is nothing no more.” Said Cole. 

There was a reason that Cullen did not seek Cole out and that was as much to do with his abstract conversation as the sneaking suspicion that there was much more demon in Cole than anyone else cared to admit, not limited to but including the Inquisitor.

“What do you mean gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know. I see where she’s been but not where she goes.” Cole stared at his fingers and picked at one nail, he continued although Cullen noticed that his hand trembled, “blood pools around steel and the veil traps friends like rabbits in a snare. Still so much to do. Is this where the story ends?”

Cullen sighed.

“I don’t understand Cole.”

“But you should! You of all people should see.” Cole grew agitated and leapt to his feet. ”The heart in shadow is in pain. So much pain! Will the chains remain unbroken?” Cole looked at Cullen as if he expected him to answer. As if he knew what Cole spoke about.

From outside Cullen heard voices raised and peering out of the window he saw a soldier run to another, there was an urgency to his actions. One of the soldiers pointed to the inn and Cullen shouted down to them.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

The soldier looked up to the window where Cullen stood and adopted a hasty salute.

“There you are Commander! We’ve been looking for you.”

“Well now you’ve found me, what is it?”

“There has been a murder Ser.”

“The Inquisitor...!” Please Andraste, no.

To his side Cole made to race from the room and Cullen snatched out and grabbed him by the arm.

“No Ser. A mage Ser. The body was thrown from the battlements, her throat was slit.” Cullen allowed himself to relax a little but felt a twinge of guilt as he did so. He understood that an assassination within the walls of Skyhold was cause for serious concern. 

”The thing is Commander where the body fell...” 

“Well spit it out man!” Cullen felt his temper flare and his pulse quicken.

The Soldier glanced around him as if the information he was about to divulge should never be spoken aloud and in so public a place.

“The Courtyard Ser, a few feet from the room where the Inquisitor recovers.”

Cole did not struggle in Cullen’s grip but looked up to him, his pale grey eyes wide and watery.

“Please let me go.” Cole begged, “don’t want to hear, don’t want to know.” Cullen ignored him.

“And do we know who is responsible?” he asked the soldier.

“There may have been a witness Sire, a young boy…. He…” the soldier looked around him again before speaking “he said he saw the Elf-girl do it Ser.”

“Sera?” whispered Cullen, his face growing pale with the information.

What in Andraste’s name was happening here?


	7. Blood and Steel

“Commander she’s fine...!” Varric held both hands up in front of him as Cullen raced along the stone walkway towards him and showed no signs of slowing.

“Sparkler and I haven’t left our post all day, despite the falling bodies. How’s that for dedication?”

Cullen scowled at Varric. He could do without the dwarf’s sarcasm, today of all days. Cullen pushed Varric to one side and threw the door to the Inquisitor’s room open with such force that it banged against the adjacent wall.

“See, what did I tell ya Curly?” Varric huffed, vindicated.

Cullen stopped at the threshold when he saw that the Inquisitor still lay in the bed and although unconscious she was still very much alive. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and resting his hands on his hips, he inhaled deeply allowing himself a moment’s respite. She was safe. For now. He released a ragged breath and rounded on Varric.

“The body Varric, where is it?” 

The dwarf gestured behind him with a thumb.

“Head back out the door, straight ahead and you can’t miss it.” said Varric. Cullen glared at him.

“Stay here…”

“…and watch the Inquisitor?” interrupted Varric, completing the Commander’s sentence for him. “For you Commander, anything.” 

Cullen stepped out into the Garden just as a few drops of rain began to fall. The sky had begun to darken and deep purple clouds roiled like great ships in an angry sea high above. The courtyard had been cleared of all its staff, guests and Chantry priests and Cullen noticed that a guard had been positioned at each entrance. That was good, he thought. The floral scent of spring’s first blooms contrasted heavily with the evenings backdrop of murder and intrigue. Leliana and Josephine looked up to acknowledge Cullen as he approached and Josephine appeared to relax slightly as though the Commanders presence helped her to feel a little safer. 

“The Inquisitor, she is well?” asked Josephine, her voice a little higher than usual and the concern on her face was palpable.

“Yes, I believe she is as well as can be expected although I am due a report from the surgeon.” Cullen replied.

The Lady Ambassador had made a rare appearance outside of her office walls and true to form she held a silk hanker-chief across her nose and mouth as she looked down to the body at their feet. A dark blue sheet had been laid across the corpse and a pooling of blood had begun to seep into the fabric making it darker still. 

“It was a warning.” Leliana said finally as though none of the others had considered it. “This assassin - whoever it was - has breached our walls and it would appear hopes to finish what they started in the Exhalted Plains.” The hood on Leiliana’s cloak was pulled much farther forward than usual and it hide her eyes from view. 

“You don’t believe that Sera did this do you?” Josephine asked, looking to Leliana, then to Cullen and finally back to the body.

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Leliana said with a resigned sigh.

“She is still missing I presume?” Cullen enquired.

“Yes. I have my spies scouring the keep but there has been no sign of her as yet. It may be Commander; that Sera has been caught up in something that she doesn’t understand. Perhaps she has fled but it is equally possible that she has found a convenient nook in which to hide.” It was unusual to hear Leliana give anyone the benefit of the doubt, especially their erratic elf companion.

“Skyhold is not without its nooks.” Josephine attested.

“And how can you be so sure that this murder is connected to the attack at the camp in the Exhalted Plains?” Cullen asked.

“It is just a suspicion…” Leliana looked to him, “it feels like a warning to me. One designed to let us know that the enemy is still amongst us and that they know where we are hiding the Inquisitor.”

“And your suspicions are rarely wrong,” agreed Cullen. 

A gentle cough from behind interrupted their conversation. Dorian leant on a wall close-by, his arms were crossed and he had a strange look on his face. A maroon satin scarf wound its way around his waist and his deep green leather jerkin glistened as if recently oiled.

“Dorian, I’m surprised to say that despite the outfit, I didn’t see you there,” remarked Cullen.

“And I’ll try not to take that personally.” Dorian said glibly as he sidled up to the group. “Now, if I might contribute to this little advisor's gathering?”

“Be my guest, if you have anything to add…” Cullen invited.

“I do Commander,” said Dorian. He came to stand beside Cullen and Cullen was surprised to notice that he and Dorian were the same height. He had always assumed the mage was much smaller. Cullen was constantly teased for the ostentatious fur mantle on his own armour; that he wore it only to make himself appear taller and more ferocious, when really he was as gentle as a lamb. He took the teasing with aplomb for he knew that he was not a lamb. As a Templar he had become a monster. 

But he liked his coat. He stood up a little straighter beside Dorian.

“Aren’t we all jumping to conclusions?” Dorian spoke again, “Not to discount the testimony of a young, slightly insane boy who is son to an equally batty mother - but this is Sera we are talking about. She may be a little enthusiastic at times but Sera would not stoop to creeping in shadows and slitting throats.” Dorian paused as if considering, “…well, yes she might. But not the throats of those working for the Inquisition. That girl has the strongest moral compass I know. It always points due evil and besides, she and the Inquisitor have become friends, after a fashion.” 

“What did you see Dorian?” asked Cullen.

“Today? Oh nothing much, it’s all been rather tame here considering...well, until this” He waved his hand over the body distastefully. “But then bodies falling from the sky is enough to make one sit up and take note. It reminds me a little of home…” he added wistfully.

Cullen crouched down to the body and reached for the sheet as if he meant to reveal the victims face.

“Oh please Commander, no!” exclaimed Josephine, “That is so ghoulish.” She turned a little to one side and covered her eyes with one gloved hand but it did not stop her from peeking when Cullen pulled the cloth away. 

The victim’s eyes had mercifully been closed. Cullen stared down at her blood streaked face and realised that he had seen her before. She was one of the Keeps few tranquil mages and kept mostly to the mage tower. He only recognised her because most notably she bore a striking resemblance to the Inquisitor herself and he had on occasion and at a distance mistaken her for Elspeth. Josephine appeared to have the same thought - 

“Is it just me Cullen or does she look an awful lot like the Inquisitor?” Josephine bent forward to take a closer look, her earlier squeamishness had seemingly abated. She waved her hands about the dead woman’s face. “In fact, the nose and the hair are very similar indeed. The same style and colour...”

“Yes.” Cullen agreed. He felt nauseated and a fresh burst of perspiration dotted his forehead.

“So a mage who resembles the Inquisitor is killed and her body dumped close to the actual location of the Inquisitor. Coincidence?” Leliana asked, but her tone insinuated that she believed that it was not. “Was it a case of mistaken identity, a warning? Why warn us and not simply strike at the Inquisitor whilst she lays vulnerable to attack?” Leliana sounded as if she was running through her private thoughts even though she spoke aloud.

“I’d like to think that Varric and I might have had something to do with that, we aren’t your everyday run-of-the-mill bodyguards you must realise.” offered Dorian by way of explanation. “By the sounds of things this assassin might be trying to spin the Inquisition into chaos and my, my but aren’t they doing a superb job so far?”

The three advisors shifted uncomfortably.

“He’s right Commander.” Agreed Leliana, addressing Cullen. “We have all but forgotten Corypheus, the Red Templars and the coming dangers. We need to be planning our next move not chasing shadows in the keep.”

“But what about Sera?” Asked Josephine.

Cullen pushed at his temples with his fingers. He was tired and the more he heard the less he understood. He longed for a time when his most, difficult of tasks was one administered with a sword in his hand and one where he knew exactly where to strike.

“There must be something more to this than we can see” Cullen said at last. “Some puppeteer is pulling at all of our strings… but I’m not sure that even I can believe Sera capable of treachery.” Cullen stood and turned to face away from the others in an attempt to collect his thoughts. He spoke quietly “…and I fear that as we stumble blindly in the dark Elspeth is in ever greater danger.” Cullen rubbed at the bridge of his nose and allowed his eyes to close for the briefest of moments. He looked back to Dorian, a plan already formulating.

“Dorian, you have become better acquainted with Fiona, I will leave it in your capable hands to inform her of this tranquils murder. Find out all you can about her, perhaps it can shed some light on…” Cullen looked back down at the dead mage and saw only Elspeth’s face, the words caught in his throat “…why her and who was the last to see her alive? Perhaps there are more witnesses and we have yet to find them.” 

“Well, just call me Mister Lucky,” chided the mage.

“Just do it Dorian!” Cullen snapped, his anger bubbling to the surface and setting fire to the air.

“Commander!” Josephine yelped as if she had placed a hand too close to that fire. She grasped her hanker-chief to her chest as though she found his behaviour quite inappropriate.

Cullen glowered at Dorian, his eyes burning with the memory of a hatred that he hadn’t felt in years. The mage held up his hands and retreated backwards to a safer distance.

“Alright Commander…I know when my welcome has expired. I will do as you ask.” Dorian shot a look to Leliana as he turned on his heel and left.

A silence settled over the advisors like a blanket and both Leliana and Josephine seemed to seek words of reassurance only to find them just out of reach. 

A door at the edge of the courtyard squeaked open and Cassandra appeared.

“Commander Cullen!” She shouted to Cullen from across the distance and hurried over to the group. Her hair was damp from the rain and the scar across Cassandra’s cheek looked pink and freshly cut in the growing dimness.

“Commander! What is going on?” she sounded annoyed. “An assassination attempt on the Inquisitors life! Why was I not informed of this?” Cassandra looked at the three advisors expectantly and Cullen groaned inwardly. 

“I have only just learnt of this myself.” Cullen said, as if that were a sufficient explanation. 

“I have news of my own.” Said Cassandra. “You asked me to check in with the contingent of Inquisition soldiers that I returned to Skyhold from the Exhalted Plains, in case they could shed any light on the attack in the encampment…” She spoke quickly and the words threatened to tumble out unhindered.

“Can this wait until later?” The rain began to fall a little harder and Cullen felt an overwhelming need to be alone. Cassandra glared at him, and he saw irritation flash behind her dark eyes.

“No. It can’t wait.” she said firmly and continued before Cullen had a chance to complain. “I have looked for Lieutenant Bridges, their commanding officer but I have been informed that they did not return to Skyhold as I ordered.” A redness spread across her cheeks despite the encroaching chill of evening.

“What do you mean they haven’t returned?” A chill ran down along Cullen’s spine. He gripped her by the forearm and took her to one side out of earshot of his Spymaster and Ambassador. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.” Cassandra…?” 

“They are missing Commander. An entire troop of our soldiers is missing and we have only just now noticed.” She ran one hand through her hair exasperated and looked up at him in earnest. 

A flash of pain streaked behind Cullen’s vision and he shoved the base of his palm into his eye to stymie its pulsing. He groaned aloud and bent over ever so slightly. Cassandra drew close, the concern on her face self-evident.

“Commander…” she whispered.

The soldiers positioned in the Courtyard watched at a distance with obvious interest, Cullen hated for them to see him in such a weakened state.

“Not now.” He growled, shaking her off. 

“Cullen…you are unwell. You should rest. I can investigate further. In the circumstances…”

“No!” His eyes were filled with a rage that he felt unable to control. The pain in his head grew worse until all he wanted was the peace his lyrium chains offered. Why was he made to suffer in this way? It is my punishment and I must learn to bear it, he told himself. “In the circumstances there is no-one who can perform my duties as I can. This investigation takes precedence. If there is a plot to assassinate the Inquisitor and destroy what we have built here then I must end it.” His singularity of purpose could at times be overwhelming.

Cassandra shook her head in frustration.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” Cassandra muttered, “You cannot risk a fall, not now…what you are doing has never been tried and in these stressful circumstances I believe it is all the more risky. You yourself gave me your confidence and the power to tell you when to step back. I am telling you that now may be that time. Allow me to oversee this investigation. You should rest.”

“Now is not the time Cassandra!” Cullen turned to leave.

“Commander Cullen!” Varric ran from the Inquisitors room, Cullen spun in his direction as he yelled at the top of his lungs across the courtyard -

“It's the Inquisitor! She’s awake!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the oodles of exposition and plot.


	8. Together

Cullen felt sick. His stomach churned as if his worry had manifested a serpent in the pit of his stomach. He walked on stiff inflexible legs across the sodden grass and he considered, not for the first time, if the Inquisitor would be happy to see him. He told himself that none of that mattered now, all that mattered was that she was awake and that she was well; but that didn’t help to quieten his nerves. 

The last time that Cullen had been alone with Elspeth some weeks previous, he had kissed her on the battlements. A blush creeped across his cheeks as he recalled the sensation of her body pressed tightly against his, the movement of her soft lips against his own and the gentle moan she had elicited as she had responded to his touch.

Cullen had desired Elspeth from the moment he had first observed her at work in Haven. He recalled that she had been crafting a piece of armour under the tutelage of the Blacksmith, Harritt. Cullen had seen her arrive at the Smithy early each morning and watched from afar as she worked the metal tirelessly for hours each day for several days. As Cullen ran his training drills for his soldiers he had become utterly distracted by her. A mage of noble birth swearing as burning embers flew from the working of the bellows had at first amused him, as it had his recruits, but her persistence in the work had surprised and even thrilled him. 

According to Harritt the pauldrons she had crafted had to be thrown and melted down but even the blacksmith had been impressed with her willingness to learn and take on a task that even for an experienced blacksmith was a difficult undertaking. 

Cullen thought back to Elspeth’s decision to face Corypheus, a decision that had given him time to escape with the people of Haven but it had also come back to haunt him each night in his many faceted nightmares. Cullen understood that there had been no other choice and that she had done her duty that day but he had sworn to himself that he would not allow that to happen again. He had not anticipated the attack and it had cost lives, and almost hers. The Inquisition might have been over before it had truly begun. Over the last few months Elspeth Trevelyan, a Mage of the Ostwick Circle had become not just the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisitor, she had also become his friend and a confidante. 

_**“It’s the Inquisitor! She’s awake!” called Varric.** _

Cullen’s armour jangled softly as he crossed the threshold to the Inquisitors room but it was enough, it seemed, to make her aware of his presence. From her position in the bed Elspeth turned her head ever so slightly to one side as if too quick a movement might cause her pain. She scanned her eyes over the group that had gathered, hunting, and she smiled gently when her eyes fell upon Cullen. He noticed the faint lines around her eyes as she tried not to show just how much pain she was in. But he saw. He knew. 

Elspeth held out a hand to him from where she lay and Cullen swept forward in one giant stride and taking her hand in his, and without thinking of propriety, he bent and pressed his lips against the back of her hand and squeezed his eyes closed. He felt a locked door to his heart swing open and relief poured in, cooling his earlier temper and driving his fears back like Dark spawn at dawn. _Merciful Maker!_ He thought, _thank you!_

Cullen knelt that way for some time. The room was silent save for the servant who enthusiastically poked the fledgling log fire with an iron poker. With her free hand Elspeth reached over and placed it gently on Cullen’s rain wet hair.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to her, his voice hoarse.

Elspeth swallowed and when she spoke she spoke quietly as if the words scratched like knives at her throat. 

“Forgive you?” she breathed, “for what? You are here.” She responded to him and only him. “You are here,” she repeated as if she could hardly believe it.

Her eye’s glistened with tears but yet none fell away. Cullen stood to standing and looking to the room he felt a momentary shame for having shown his feelings so readily before the others. _Maker preserve me, even Varric is squirming_ , he thought.

“Inquisitor! It is good to see you awake, I am so relieved!” Josephine broke the silence. Her sincerity was genuine and her demeanour bright, “and how do you feel?” she asked, a little too jovially considering the circumstances. 

Elspeth grunted a response.

“That well?” Josephine chuckled and looked to Leliana. 

Elspeth attempted to sit, inhaling a sharp breath as though the stitches beneath the bandage on her head threatened to tear. Cullen moved to help her, supporting her under one arm. Elspeth yelped again as she overstretched her sore ribs.

“Slowly…” he said, “there is no rush.” He turned to face the servant who had stopped poking the fire and instead had been watching Cullen and the Inquisitor with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

“Fetch the surgeon, immediately.” He ordered.

“Yes Ser.” The servant bobbed her head in acknowledgement and fled the room as if grateful to be sent away.

Leliana pushed her hood off of her forehead, revealing several strands of hair which were the colour of flame and made even more vibrant by the firelight.

“What happened out there in the Exhalted Plains?” her voice was flat and gave little away as to her own state of mind. “Do you remember who attacked you? You must tell me everything.”

“Leliana!” scolded Josephine.

“It’s good to see you too Leliana,” Elspeth scowled ever so slightly as she pushed herself to sitting  
.  
Leliana huffed aloud and now it was Cullen’s turn to glare at the Spymaster.

“I am sorry inquisitor. Of course I am glad to see you well,” she said.

“I’m not sure ‘well’ covers it” replied Elspeth as she gently touched the bandage wrapped around her head in assessment of her own injuries. Leliana took a pace closer to the Inquisitor and spoke in a conspiratorial hush as if spies lurked at every corner.

“We have a situation in the Keep,” she said “one that you might be able to shed some light on and so I am compelled to ask...”

“I don’t remember much Leliana,” Elspeth interrupted. 

“…about Sera.” Leliana finished her sentence and Elspeth frowned at her.

“Sera?” exclaimed Varric, the dwarf had been leaning against the far wall taking a drink and had spilt some of the liquid on his shirt, “wait a moment, what about Sera? And incidentally this sounds like big stuff and why am I always the last to know about the big stuff?” Varric glowered at the three advisors in turn.

“Varric all will be revealed, of that I am sure, but for the moment we are all as in the dark as you...” Cullen said by way of apology.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that Curly, it’s pretty murky where I’ve been standing so why don’t you be a good Commander and enlighten me?” Cullen felt for Varric, from past experiences as a younger Templar he knew full well what it was to be on the outside looking in.

“What about Sera? She is alright isn’t she?” Elspeth breathed.

Cullen had noticed that she had always had a soft spot for the elvish girl. He personally had not liked Sera’s reckless influence on Elspeth but knew conversely that he had felt happier when Sera accompanied the Inquisitor on her missions. He had witnessed the elf’s archery skills first hand and had never in his life seen anyone wield a bow with such skill, at least not without the addition of magic or lyrium. Elspeth lowered one leg from the bed and clutched at her ribs stifling a moan.

“You most certainly are not going anywhere Inquisitor.” Cullen ordered. 

“That is not for you to decide Commander Cullen,” irritation flashed across Elspeth’s face and Cullen knew he might have a fight to keep her from rushing back to her duties before she was fully recovered.

“She has been accused of a murder in the Keep and has disappeared.” Explained Leliana, pulling no punches.

“ **What?** ” yelled Elspeth and Varric in unison and the dwarf gestured to the open door.

“You mean the body? That was Sera’s doing?” Varric said in astonishment. 

“Body?” Elspeth said as though she felt truly lost.

“Sera has been accused of murdering a tranquil mage, one of Grand Enchanter Fiona’s”, Josephine shifted in her dress uncomfortably, the many satin folds crackling in competition with the logs on the fire.

Elspeth looked down for a moment at the mark on her right hand that lay dormant. Cullen studied her face and tried to fathom what it was she was thinking. Without looking up she spoke.

“I need to speak with Cassandra. Urgently. Can someone…”

“I’m here Inquisitor.” Cassandra stepped into the room from outside where she had been patiently waiting by the open doorway.

“Don’t tell me that you’re in on this too Seeker,” complained Varric.

“We are not obligated to run Inquisition business by you for approval anytime someone sneezes Varric,” chided Cassandra.

“I’d say that Sera standing accused of the murder of an innocent is less like a sneeze and more like Inquisition dysentery, but thanks as ever for the vote of confidence.” Varric stood and walked to the door. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the tavern and if I see Buttercup or anymore dead bodies on my travels, I’ll be sure to send word. You may even want to let me in on the news should you have any.” He paused as if waiting for someone to argue with him to stay and when they didn’t he sighed heavily. The dwarf looked to the Inquisitor defeated.

“For what it’s worth Inquisitor, I’m glad you’re alright.” And with that he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“You can tell he’s a writer, can’t you? Such a flair for theatrics.” She said as if wholly immune to them.

Elspeth made as if to stand and Cullen stepped to her and snaked one arm around her waist to steady her. She held onto the fabric at his back tightly with one hand.

“Inquisitor please” he insisted “You have only just woken and must be more careful.”

She looked sideways up to him and he noticed a flush spread across her cheeks.

“Still Inquisitor is it?” she teased softly. Cullen felt his stomach somersault.

Elspeth cleared her throat and something in her countenance shifted when she turned back to face Cassandra.

“What do you remember Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s question was pre-emptive.

Elspeth rubbed her eyes with her free hand as if by doing so she could tug the memory free.

“Both you and Solas had retired to your tents…the conversation, as I recall, had moved onto insects. Gigantic, monstrous insects and amusing anecdotes, that sort of thing….remind me to tell you sometime.” Cassandra could not have looked less enthused and Cullen had to stifle a laugh given the circumstances. Elspeth continued speaking, “Sera, myself and Gareth one of the guards, nice man, older, made a wonderful hot beverage from crushed beetle shells.” she looked up at them all apologetically “…it was usual late night fare, nothing taxing.”

Elspeth looked to Cullen, a deepening concern writ large on her face. She held out her hand again as if it helped her to remember, Cullen noticed how it shook.

“My mark…the anchor, it came to life. I thought perhaps a new rift had opened and that demons were close by. I yelled to you Cassandra and to Solas,” Cassandra furrowed her brow as if what she was being told did not tally with her own version of events. Cullen watched her closely. “…But there was no rift, none that I could see. I saw a body…” Elspeth’s voice waivered as if she did not want to speak of what she saw next. Cullen tightened his grip at her waist.

“I saw a body fall, it was Adaline the guard on duty…I…couldn’t…” Elspeth brushed her fingers across her temple and groaned in frustration, “…I can’t remember the rest. Why can’t I remember? Cassandra? What happened?”

“It was the Venatori” Cassandra answered with such certainty that Cullen almost threw Solas’ testimony out of the window on hearing her. “I saw a Venatori assassin strike you, I chased them and instead of fighting they fled leaving you unconscious and bleeding on the ground. We loaded you onto the cart and made straight away for Skyhold.”

“And the other guard?” asked Elspeth. And when Cassandra didn’t reply Cullen spoke.

“I am sorry, he was killed.” Cullen hoped he had given the news gently and he felt Elspeth sag against him either due to her grief at news of the soldier’s death or because of her injuries, he could not tell.

“You need to rest” advised Cullen and Elspeth looked to him as if she were about to argue but Leliana spoke.

“He is right Inquisitor. You need time to recover.”

“And Sera?” probed Elspeth, “She does not kill without reason…why a tranquil…” Elspeth gripped the back of Cullen’s tunic tightly in her right hand and groaned. He helped her lower herself back onto the bed.

“We will find her before any harm can come to her or anyone else at her hands.” He reassured her. 

“Thank you” she whispered.

The door flew open and the surgeon entered the room, she looked cross.

“What are you doing? Out! All of you.”

Alyson swept over to help Cullen lower the Inquisitor back down onto her bed.

“And you Inquisitor must not push yourself too hard or too fast lest you risk a worsening of your symptoms. The fact you are awake tells us much but time will surely tell how serious the injury to your head actually is.”

“I appear to have some loss of memory. Will I get it back?” Elspeth frowned.

“Memories of the night you were attacked?” asked the surgeon.

Elspeth nodded, wincing as the pain in her head flared.

“Well that is not unusual. You may suddenly remember or you may not. But you won’t know unless you rest so please, make my life a little easier and lie down.” Elspeth reclined backwards stiffly and her shirt slipped from one shoulder revealing an expanse of flesh. She glanced up to Cullen.

“I bet you are loving this aren’t you?” she scowled.

“Loving what exactly? Seeing you in bed, half undressed…? This isn’t quite what I had been imagining.” He said.

“I meant me having to take orders from someone else for a change.” Elspeth smiled.

“Oh. Well…yes. That is, I suppose…” Cullen grasped at his neck.

“So you have been imagining me…?” she tormented, her eyes shining.

Josephine and Leliana giggled.

“Makers breath!” stormed Cullen, a blush bloomed across his cheeks and he swept from the room.


	9. Fire and Ice

Cullen stood in the damp corridor outside of Solas’ quarters and he wondered for the most part why he had felt compelled to confront the apostate alone. His sword hung heavily across his hipbone and he felt ashamed at himself for having brought it but equally vindicated by memories of an old fear. He lifted one fist and was about to knock when he heard glass shattering on stone beyond.

“-Just tell me why I shouldn’t have you arrested and thrown into the dungeon!” Cassandra’s voice boomed through the four inches of oak door.

Cullen pushed on the latch and the door swung open. The scene beyond was one of catastrophe; Solas’ table had been upturned and pieces of a shard lay shattered on the floor as did a collection of books and old scraps of parchment. Cassandra restrained Solas’ around his chest and the elf whipped his body sharply in a vain attempt to free himself from her powerful grip.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” wheezed Solas, his windpipe squeezed partially closed by Cassandra’s arms.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on in here?” Yelled Cullen, his hand falling to rest on the hilt of his sword.

The air in the room began to crackle and white lights flashed in the air above them. Cullen felt a dragging sensation in his stomach, one that was familiar to him as a Templar. Cullen knew that it meant magic was being drawn from the fade and about to be cast.

“Solas no!” Cullen ran towards the elf.

“I warned you Cassandra!” Solas shouted.

The apostate emitted a freezing blast of air from the centre of his chest. Cullen felt his ears pop painfully and Cassandra cried out in surprise as she was propelled across the room. She smashed hard against the mural on the opposite side of the chamber, her armour clanging loudly against the stone before she slid to the floor, dazed. Cullen raised one arm across his face to protect himself from the following barrage of flying ice crystals. Instinctively he reached for the power within to bolster his defences against magical attack only to recall that he had nothing to draw upon. The ice struck him and he staggered backwards, the crystals lacerating his hands. He felt grateful for his armour if nothing else.

“Solas!” He called to the mage who stood with his staff whirling above his head, readying himself to attack again.

“Stand down Solas!”

Solas lowered his staff. He was breathing heavily, a scratch on the side of his face was bleeding profusely. He dabbed at his face with his hand and appeared shocked when his hand came away covered in his own blood. The sight of his blood seemed to incite his rage once more.

“This isn’t right Commander!” he shouted as he began to pace back and forth like a wild cat under threat from a larger foe. He glared down at Cassandra who groaned as she tried to right herself from the fall.

“Are you alright Cassandra?” asked Cullen.

“Is she alright? Is she…?” Solas fumed, “she attacked me Commander! She attacked me!”

Cassandra clambered to her feet unsteadily and glowered at Solas, her dark eyes glinting with violent intent and she unsheathed her sword and readied herself to fight.

“Cassandra!” Cullen shouted but she paid him no heed.

He realised that he needed to diffuse this situation and quickly before someone was killed.

He winced as a bright orb of light shimmered to life around Solas’ body and watched in horror as he heard the apostate whisper an elvish incantation. Solas circled his staff once more over his head and looking upwards, he threw a stream of light from the tip of his staff that bubbled to life to form a thick black cloud. The cloud began to spin dangerously, a tempest contained within. Cullen hated storms at the best of times let alone those of the indoor magical variety. He groaned inwardly and felt a sudden tug at his legs as a wind, worthy of Skyhold, whipped around the outermost curves of the circular chamber. The temperature plummeted and hundreds of tiny flashes sparked above them. The wind was directed towards Cassandra and she was forced back against the wall.

“Solas! Stand down! That is an order!”

Cullen hoped that he and Cassandra together would be capable of subduing Solas if he could not be reasoned with. It would be a close fight he knew and not one in which all parties would come out unhurt or even alive. Cullen drew his own sword and as he prepared to charge the elf, an arc of lightning struck the stones in the middle of the room and the cacophonous boom forced Cullen from his feet. He jarred his shoulder as he landed and yelped.

Solas took a step closer to Cassandra, a dangerous glint to his eyes that seemed to dare her to fight him and if Cullen knew anything about Cassandra it was that she would give him that fight.

Cullen struggled to his feet and was about to advance again when a furious fire stripped a line across the room separating Solas from Cassandra. Cullen threw both arms in front of his face to protect himself from the wall of flame. It roared with its own magical intensity and Cullen looked for the mage who had cast it. Dorian stood at the balcony high above, both hands outstretched before him, and ribbons of flame licked around his fore-arms. Solas retreated, his form encased in a pulsating green shell of light that Cullen recognised as a spell of protection. He then noticed that the same barrier had been cast around himself for he could not feel the heat from the flames.

There was nothing any of them could do except wait for the fire to splutter out and die and when it did Cullen strode to Cassandra and grabbing her by her breastplate with both hands he dragged her over to the nearest bench and shoved her down onto it.

“You, sit there!” Cullen ordered.

Cassandra was too dazed to retaliate and so she sat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of a verbal comeback.

“And you…” Cullen rounded on the apostate who had returned to wearing a hole in the stone with his pacing.

“Are we going to have any more problems Solas?” Cullen stepped up to him, his own anger threatening to spill over and incite further violence. “What do you think you are doing? Casting magic against one of our own? How do you think this looks?”

“It was merely self-defence, or do I need to remind you that it was she…” Solas pointed at Cassandra, “who had me restrained? What was I supposed to do in the circumstances Commander? Indeed what were her intentions had you not arrived when you did…”

Cullen threw a look to Cassandra. What indeed?

“What in all of Thedas is going on down there? Do I need to fetch the army?” Dorian shouted down from the balcony. Cullen looked up to Dorian and noticed a section of his usually impeccable hair had fallen out of place.

“No Dorian, Thank you.” Cullen sighed, placing his hands on his hips, “truly, thank you.”

“You have only to ask Commander and I will sweep to the rescue.” Dorian swept his hair from his eyes and leaning onto the balcony he kept a wary eye on the proceedings below.

Cullen nodded to him grateful for his presence.

“Answer me this Commander," said Solas, "why does this ‘woman’ claim she saw Venatori attack the Inquisitor when I saw nothing of the sort?”

“Perhaps you woke up too late and missed them?” Dorian called down, and Solas returned his comment with a scowl.

“Why would I lie Solas?” Cassandra asked. She looked imploring to the mage, her fight all but gone for now. “Do you honestly believe that I wish harm on the inquisitor? She is my friend and my commanding officer. I was the one who nominated her as head of the Inquisition. I have more reason to want her to succeed than anyone - I want justice for the Divine’s death.” She looked at her hands and twisted her fingers until the skin whitened, “I need it...order from the chaos.”

Cullen felt pity for Cassandra. He knew that struggle all too well and lived it almost daily.

“And what of Sera? What does she say she saw?” Solas asked.

“You don’t know...” Cassandra admitted. Solas looked at them in turn blankly and then he turned to address Cullen.

“It seems I have missed something. Sera? She is well?” his concern was self-evident. Cassandra and Dorian both glanced at Cullen, curious it seemed, to hear how he would answer.

“Sera has committed a murder at the keep and…”

“What?” Solas hissed. He turned and ran both hands over his smooth head as if contemplating the implications of their elf assassin turned traitor; as if he couldn’t believe it.

“It seems increasingly evident to me Commander that something happened to us several nights ago in the Exhalted Plains.” He flashed his eyes towards Cassandra, who still sat as if defeated, “something that not I, nor Cassandra can explain. Perhaps when the Inquisitor awakens she will…”

“She has no memory of that night.” Cullen interrupted.

“She is awake then?” Solas' eyes softened.

“Yes, I was on my way here to tell you as much.” Solas looked at once relieved to hear that Elspeth was awake and then equally disappointed to discover she had no memory of that night.

He walked to his desk which had been blasted into the corner of the room by the skirmish. He righted it effortlessly and retrieved a thick tome which lay page-side down and open on the ground and was now slightly scorched. Solas dusted the soot from the book and frowned up at Dorian. Dorian merely shrugged unapologetically.

“Commander, perhaps I can discover what happened that night.” Solas turned to Cullen.

“What do you intend to do?”

“I believe we must enter the fade, I often speak with the spirits that dwell there. They are my friends and perhaps they saw something that night that we did not. I believe it is worth a try.”

“You said ‘we’. ‘We’ must enter the fade? Who is ‘we’?” Cullen asked but he already knew the answer and fear tugged at his heart.

“Myself, Cassandra and the Inquisitor.”

“Commander you aren’t surely going to consider this!” Dorian interjected, his own concern self-evident.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed and looking again from Solas to Cassandra, he felt his suspicions come raging back to life. If this was a plot to undo the Inquisitor then could he trust either of them with Elspeth’s life? In light of recent events, Cullen felt that the answer was no and yet deep down he believed that he had no choice but to allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this to exclude some Dorian dialogue as on a re-read, it didn't work particularly well. This is what happens when you don't have a beta reader :)


	10. Desire

“Cullen I’m fine,” said Elspeth as she bent to weave the laces on her boot around each hook. Cullen stood silently against the wall and watched her closely as if trying to ascertain the truth of her condition.

“Really,” she continued when he didn’t respond. “I feel much, much better. I’ve even been able to draw upon some of my own magic to help with my healing.”

Standing she walked to him and placing one hand reassuringly on his forearm, she looked up into his eyes.

“I can do this, I’m strong enough. Solas’ idea is a good one. Not knowing what happened that night is making me crazy.”

“May I?” Cullen asked, directing his attention to the laceration on her head. The bandage had been removed, the swelling had come down but he wanted to see it for himself.

“Be my guest,” Elspeth offered herself up for inspection but Cullen noticed her hesitancy as though upon looking she were afraid that he would insist she take more time to rest.

Cullen tentatively brushed her hair back so he could see more closely. He could feel her breath warm on his neck and he longed to hold her and to keep her locked away where nothing could ever harm her again.

 _But what kind of monster would that make me?_ He thought, _I must continue to send her into the world, she is not mine to have and nor would I want her to be so tied to my fears._

Cullen believed that his own courage at going into battle and putting his life in peril was nothing to the courage of sending someone you love to face that same danger.

 _Love…_ he considered.

It was true, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his life and he was only now admitting to himself the depth of his feelings. A tiny part of him, the ex-Templar part almost hated her for that, hated her for making him love her. He let out a short sharp laugh at the ridiculousness of that notion and Elspeth stepped back, a wry smile on her lips.

“You find the strangest things amusing Commander,” she said, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“No, I…I am not…oh never-mind.” Cullen let his hands fall away from her begrudgingly and yet satisfied at the progress her injury had made.

“Does that mean that I pass the test and can go back to work? Both the surgeon and my mage healer are united, it is only you who stops me…”

Cullen laughed again.

“As if I could stop you!”

A dark expression flashed across Elspeth's face and she stepped into him suddenly and pressed her lips to his. Cullen groaned his surprise and felt his loins stir and his stomach clench with desire. She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with wanting, and he pulled her body back against his; pressing one hand firmly on the small of her back as the other cupped her face. Cullen brushed his lips softly over hers, marvelling at the softness of her face to the roughness of his own. She parted her mouth with a soft sigh welcoming his tongue against hers. 

The kiss deepened and as Elspeth pulled at his breastplate trying to bring her body closer to his, she raised one knee and grasped onto him with her leg. Cullen hooked his hand beneath her thigh and lifted her leg higher over his hip. Elspeth gasped into his mouth in response to the sensation of his hardened manhood pressing against her pelvis. Cullen’s tongue spread full against hers impatiently and the wet sounds of their mouths and their hot breath intermingling made Elspeth moan noisily. The sound of her induced him to slide his hand across her hipbone and down to her pelvis. He kneaded her most intimate of places over the thickness of her leather britches, desperate to tear them from her, to feel her wetness...

A knock at the door had them both reeling backwards.

“Whaa…just…just a moment!” called Cullen.

They both stood panting and staring at one another as though neither of them had anticipated such a powerful physical longing for the other. A deep flush spread across Elpseth’s cheeks and down her neck to below the lining of her jerkin at her collar bone. Cullen felt himself staring at her like a man who might stare at a meal after months of army rationing. His blood pulsed through his loins and tearing his eyes from her he turned and leant with one arm against the wall, feeling the coolness of the stone, and using it to try to bring his desires back under his control.

 _Makers breath!_ He thought, _it has never felt like that!_

“Who is it?” Elspeth called to the person who knocked at the door, her voice shaky.

“It’s me, Leliana…” Leliana seemed to whisper through the door and thankfully she did not try to enter. She was a spymaster after all and nothing much got past Lelianas notice, “but, there is no rush. I was sent to inform you that Solas and Cassandra are waiting for you in your quarters and are ready to begin the ritual.”

“Thank-you Leliana” called Elspeth. Cullen rubbed both hands across his face as if trying to awaken the reason of the man and quieten the animal within.

“I am sorry to insist that we escort you. I still fear that either Sera or some other assassin is in Skyhold and I would prefer to keep you under protection at all times.” Leliana called, her voice muffled by the door separating them.

“Yes of course Leliana, just give us a moment, the Inquisitor and I have been discussing the ritual and its repercussions at some length.” Said Cullen

“Length. Yes. Of course.” Said Leliana and both Elpseth and Cullen shared a look and smiled.

"Ready?" he asked Elspeth. She righted her jerkin and smoothed her hair then nodded.

Cullen walked to the door and unbolting it he pulled it open. When Leliana saw them both she took a few paces backwards as if she was fully aware that the two of them might need some additional privacy.

Cullen took a deep bow and rolled his arm with a flourish towards the open door.

“My Lady Trevelyan,” he teased.

Elspeth laughed as she stepped from the room and the sound of it delighted Cullen. Several of the guards watched him from the open doorway and Cullen blushed then at his own foolish behaviour.

 _What has become of me?_ He wondered.


	11. The Veil

Thick black shadows swept over the stone floor and walls of the Inquisitor’s chambers above the Great Hall. They faded and reappeared as large white clouds charged across the sky outside as if it could not decide whether it wanted to rain or shine.

Elspeth often chose to keep the enormous doors of her quarters ajar even on the chilliest of days despite her predilection to feeling the cold. Cullen wondered if it were because she had spent her life in the Circle at Ostwick and that fresh air was, like so many other things non-magical people took for granted, something precious that was denied to a mage. Maker knows the Circle Towers were not known for their warmth.

As if hearing his thoughts, Elspeth shivered beside him and Cullen resisted the urge to throw his furs around her shoulders and lead her from the room.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low yet edged with concern.

She did not answer but smiled up at him wearily. Her face was pale and a delicate sheen of sweat dressed her skin. The climb from the courtyard to her quarters appeared to have tired her and for this reason and for hundreds of others Cullen did not like Solas’ plan to take her into the fade. Not one bit. His jaw ached from clenching and a growing tension in his neck made his head hurt.

He was all too familiar with mages entering the fade and for many years it had been his duty to attend the ritual of their Harrowing. The first time that Cullen had struck down a possessed mage had been during this initiation. Cullen had been twenty years old and he was, he remembered, desperate to prove himself. He had considered his attendance at his first Harrowing an honour but in the years to follow he found himself reliving variants of it in his nightmares. At the time he had been proud to uphold the highest edicts of the Templar Order and felt it had reflected Knight Commander Greagoir’s faith in him. Cullen had been a driven young Templar but he often regretted now all that he had done in the pursuit of that ambition.

That first execution had been of a handsome young elf by the name of Nethryth; the mage had been capable of casting some of the more complex spells of entrophy and had been encouraged by not just his teachers but First Enchanter Irving into taking his Harrowing at a younger age than most due to his extraordinary talents. The First Enchanter had had such faith in the young elf and no one had anticipated that the talented mage might fail. But fail he did.

Cullen had barely allowed the demon within the boy to draw breath before cutting him down. It was only when Cullen lay in his bed chamber that night that he had remembered the smile Nethryth had given him before the ritual. The boy had not just been confident, he had been cocky; his head full of all of the wonderful things his tutors had impressed upon him.

Cullen should have stopped the Harrowing before it had begun. Some part of him had known the boy would be unable to resist the temptations offered him by the demons of the Fade and a dark voice within told him he hadn't put a halt to it because he had _wanted_ to strike the mage down; to prove his worth as a Templar and show that he was not afraid to do his duty. Worse still, it had worked. The young mage had been killed but Cullen had been noticed by his superiors and he had been praised for his decisive action. The memory of it left ash in his mouth.

The door slammed again in the wind and Cassandra who had been pacing the room pulled it closed. Solas sat crossed legged on the floor, his back was as straight as a rod and his palms rested lightly on his knees. Cullen saw the scratch on his face from his altercation with the Seeker had already been healed and had vanished, leaving behind only more of that smooth alabaster skin.

A wooden box and a round bronze bowl sat nestled on a velvet cushion on the floor in front of Solas. The apostate opened the lid to the box and revealed a vial of a luminous blue liquid. Cullen took a step backwards but subconsciously he licked his lips.

There was something more than just the power that lyrium reinforced within a Templars body, there was also an unmistakable sense of connectedness. Cullen wondered if it was not the lack of lyrium in the system that caused madness in those who stopped taking it per se but the absence of that feeling, as if they had once known what it was to be favoured by the maker only to feel the desolate isolation as he turned from them.

“Commander?” Cassandra spoke and broke whatever spell Cullen had been induced into upon seeing the lyrium vial.

“Commander, did you hear what I said?” Concern was writ large across the Seekers face.

“Cullen?” Elspeth gently rested a hand on his upper arm and looked up to him, her golden hued eyes wide. So trusting. If she had known him as a younger Templar she would not look upon him but with fear and trepidation. Cullen felt a little sick.

“Yes…” He looked from Elspeth to Cassandra, “I’m sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

“The lyrium…perhaps you should take your leave, we will understand that in the circumstances..”

“I can assure you Inquisitor,” Cullen snapped, “there will be no problem as far as that is concerned.”

Elpseth frowned and moved from beside him. Cullen noted how cold it felt not to have her close to him and he regretted his harsh tone and wished that they were alone so that he might explain. But instead he changed the subject.

“Leliana has stationed Varric and Ironbull at the door and I have several Guards deployed in the Great Hall. We can begin when Dorian arrives as I have requested he be present…”

The sound of leather slapping on stone gave Cullen cause to pause.

“Sorry I’m late everyone.” Dorian emerged from the staircase with a bounce and Cullen wondered if he had ever been on time for anything in his life. “…that cold hearted Orlesian viper Vivienne was quite upset that she hadn’t been invited to our little gathering and delayed me.” 

_At least the Tevinter mage had the temerity to apologise for his tardiness_ , thought Cullen.

Dorian approached the circle and gave Cullen a sideways smile.

“That reminds me Commander, Vivienne will be fuming in your office and awaiting your presence in order to lodge a formal complaint, the little darling.” Dorian winked and Cullen sighed inwardly, as much at the thought of having to deal with Vivienne as with Dorian’s relentless flirting.

“Let’s get this party started shall we?” Dorian proclaimed.

Dorian’s excitement at the impending ritual was in direct contrast to his own feelings of dread. Something was going to go horribly wrong, Cullen could feel it in his bones.

The Inquisitor gave Cullen a reassuring wink and in return he managed a smile but knew that it hadn’t reached his eyes. Elspeth took her place on the floor beside Cassandra and Solas and the three of them formed a tight circle. Solas pulled the stopper from the vial of lyrium and very carefully poured a few drops onto a morsel of flat-bread, avoiding any direct contact with the liquid. Although mages used lyrium to enchance their own natural magical abilities they would only imbibe it when fighting and rarely consumed it orally in rituals, instead drawing on its power from outside the body.

“Cassandra.” Solas motioned for her to take the bread from him.

“And just what exactly am I meant to do with this?” Cassandra asked as she held the bread aloft and eyed it suspiciously.

“You are no mage.” He began to explain “In order for you to walk consciously in the fade you must consume the lyrium, or you will be but a dreamer.”

“Yes of course but is it safe?” she said, her eyes darting to Cullen and back to the morsel of bread.

“In small quantities you should be fine.” Solas’ voice was cool and calm, whether or not he cared if Cassandra made it into the Fade unharmed appeared of little consequence to him.

“ _Should_ be fine?” replied Cassandra, “I don’t like the sound of that.”

But she popped the bread into her mouth regardless and swallowed.

Cullen watched her and he could almost taste the lyrium himself; a bitter flavour yet metallic-like and charged somehow. He longed to try some and so forced himself to look away.

“I appreciate you doing this Cassandra.” Elspeth said.

“I am doing this as much for my own piece of mind as for yours Inquisitor. But, noted.”

Solas poured the remaining lyrium infused liquid into the bronze bowl and it hissed as it made contact. Cullen could see the outline of engraved runes on the sides of the dish and he was reminded of the Harrowing ritual once more. The runes began to glow with a soft light that grew brighter with each passing moment and as they did a green vapour rose from the bowl and drifted outwards towards the two mages and then finally as if by Solas’ manipulation to the seeker. Elspeth and Solas took ahold of Cassandra's hands and the circle was complete. Cullen heard it then, not as a memory of the past but of the present, the music of lyrium rang pure like birdsong and as he listened, entranced, the air began to tear apart before his eyes as if it were some solid tangible thing.

Somewhere from far off he heard Elspeth cry out.

"Sera!" she called, her voice strangled and Cullen made as if to move towards her -

“Look away Commander!” Cullen heard Dorian’s shout and felt a hand pull on his arm but it was too late.

A blinding white light flared into being at the centre of their circle with an ear popping crack and Cullen was thrown backwards by the force of it, landing heavily on the hard floor.

For some moments he lay there, dazed and unable to see. Propping himself onto his elbows he saw the green smoke had dissipated as if it had never been and Elspeth, Solas and Cassandra lay crumpled on the floor. Dorian moved to them each in turn, leaning close in order to feel their breath on his cheek. At long last he looked over at Cullen.

“They are sleeping Commander. It worked.”

“Maker walk with them,” whispered Cullen.


	12. Breach at Skyhold

Cullen stepped carefully over the sleeping figures on the stone floor and walked onto the Inquisitor’s balcony. Leaning on the balustrade he looked out at the silver edged mountains on the horizon. The Sky had darkened as night began to draw in but pale hues of purple and pink still dressed the sky like ribbons in a child’s hair and gave the scene an illusory sense of calm.

Cullen stalked back into the room which had turned cold and dim. Dorian crouched in front of the brazier at the wall and set the wooden logs aflame with the wave of a hand. The flames burned bright yellow and Cullen felt the immediacy of its warmth on his face.

At times Cullen felt that he was so far removed from the troubles of the people of Thedas, as if he had been tucked away safely at Skyhold like a boy playing at being a Commander and that fact merely served to prick at his self-imposed sense of guilt. He could not deny that he missed the opportunity to be a pair of boots on the ground, pounding whatever demon or combatant stood in his way but it was Elspeth who had that role and as the Inquisitor, he knew, she performed it extremely well.

Cullen believed that he was where he was needed but tonight the weight of that role lay heavily upon him. The Inquisitions protection at Skyhold would last only as long as its location remained a secret and that secret balanced on a knife edge. It was only a matter of time before Corypheus and his red Templar army discovered their base and moved on their position as they had at Haven. He worried that this plot to destroy the Inquisitor was just that; a plot to seek them out. He shuddered to think of the impending carnage of that confrontation and made a mental note to renew his investigations into the whereabouts of Samson when the current threat to the Inquisitor had been dealt with. He wanted to find them first.

He ran a hand through his thick hair, impatient for answers and increasingly impatient to hold Elspeth in his arms again.

“Commander, I think I can actually see the stone wearing away beneath your boots. Look there!” Dorian pointed to the ground suitably aghast, “careful or you might fall into a hole of your own making! You’re certainly wearing a hole in my nerves.”

Cullen scowled at Dorian who had moved to the bookshelves. The mage ran one hand across the book spines as if impressed at the Inquisitors collection, pausing on one tome before moving on to study another. They had been waiting for the others to awaken for several hours and Cullen’s patience was wearing thin.

“And what would you have me do Dorian? Lay out the chess set for a game?” Dorian turned to Cullen, the firelight cast an inky black shadow across the mage’s upper lip making his moustache appear wild and unkempt.

“Now that’s not a bad idea Commander but a bottle of vintage Backcountry Reserve would have sufficed.”

“How can you even think of drinking at a time like this?” Cullen moved to stand over Elspeth, her body was shrouded in the woollen blanket he had retrieved from the end of her bed and placed over her. She looked pale. _Too pale_ , he thought. He placed his hands on his hips and resisted the urge to continue his pacing for Dorian’s sake.

“…the Inquisitor was almost killed,” Cullen continued, whether the mage wanted to hear it or not, “an assassin stalks Skyhold no less! Need I remind you that both you and I had to prevent Solas and Cassandra from killing one another and now they, with the Inquisitor, have taken to wandering the fade looking for…what exactly?” Cullen threw his hands in the air exasperated, “…forgotten memories? Demons? Another of Sola’s cursed elven artifacts?…or Corypheus himself?”

“A jolly nice excursion?” Dorian added with a smirk. “Although I have to say my last visit to the fade was a fairly traumatic experience so I’ll give both Elspeth and Cassandra this- they are either incredibly courageous or they have truly forgotten the terrors we witnessed at Adamant and need a hard cold dose of sanity.” Dorian appeared to shudder at the memory at their experiences at the Grey Warden Fortress in the wasteland at the Western Approach over a month ago. Cullen did not feel reassured and the mage appeared to change tactics.

“Look Commander, you, Josephine and Leliana have helped to amass a truly powerful group here. I believe I can speak for the others when I say that we have remained here, not just because we all fully realise the consequences of demons tearing across Thedas but also because of you and the Inquisitor. It is not an easy feat to inspire loyalty in such a ragtag bunch of misfits and mages.” Dorian sighed heavily as he too stared down upon the sleeping forms of the three adventurers.

“This here is just a hiccup, one we will soon have the answer to and then when all is said and done, both you and the Inquisitor can get back to fostering that infamous sexual tension.”

Cullen couldn’t help but blush.

“And quite honestly?” said Dorian, “they can’t stay asleep forever simply because Elspeth can’t stand to be away from you for too long. Trust me on that. She never stops blathering on about you whenever we are away.”

“She does? Truly?” Cullen felt his heart skip a beat. He was too exhausted to hide his feelings on the matter.“And what does she say about me?” he asked as nonchalantly as his fatigued self could manage.

“Oh this and that.” said Dorian and Cullen huffed.

“You know Dorian, for a mage, you are more annoying than most and that’s saying something.”

“What? Even the crotchety Vivienne?” Dorian’s mouth fell wide.

“In this instance, yes, even Vivienne.”

“I’m wounded Commander.” He held a hand to his chest and feigned injury. “Well then, I won’t tell you how she truly feels for you. You’ll just have to ask her yourself when she wakes up.”

Cullen sighed heavily and looked back to the Inquisitor.

“I only wish that I had your confidence Dorian.” He replied.

“It’s more than…”

Cullen silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“Hush, did you hear that?” They both paused, Cullen strained to hear but he heard only the wind whistling down the chimney making the fire flicker angrily. Sheets of parchment scattered from the Inquisitor's desk onto the floor.

“What is it?” asked Dorian after a moment.

“I thought I heard something, a shout perhaps….”

A loud yell came from directly behind them. Dorian yelped and spun around.

Solas sat bolt upright and gasped for breath, his eyes wide and fearful. Cullen unsheathed his sword and held it towards the apostate. Beside him Cassandra groaned and rolled onto her side as if still drugged.

“Commander!” shouted Solas, “They are here! Be ready!”

“Wha…?”

The sound of wood splintering into hundreds of pieces sounded from the hall below and a blood curdled scream split the air and then a second and a third. Dorian ran to the bed and grabbed his staff that he had left lying upon it, the smooth glass orb on the weapon flared to life as his magic flowed into it. From the bottom of the stairs the door slammed open and heavy footsteps thundered up towards them.

“Commander Cullen!” It was Iron Bull. “Skyhold has been breached! Demons are attacking, I don’t know where they came from.” The Bull squeezed his hands on the binding of his great axe haft making the leather squeak.

“Sadly I do know,” moaned Cassandra.

Dorian helped the Seeker to her feet. Her face was as white as a sheet.

“Tell me.” Commanded Cullen.

“The regiment, the Inquisition regiment that never made it back to Skyhold…they were captured by Corypheus and…” Cassandra wavered unsteadily on her feet and Dorian wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

"There, there my dear." Cooed Dorian reassuringly.

“Solas?” demanded Cullen, rounding on the apostate.

“Blood magic Commander."

Cullen felt the pit of his stomach gnaw on its own emptiness and a red prickly heat reached out from his neck to his extremities.

"It seems this contingent of Inquisition forces were sacrificed in a blood magic ritual of the most violent kind. I believe some, if not all, of those soldiers were also possessed and now attack Skyhold." Solas announced the death and possession of his men with such nonchalance that Cullen gritted his teeth.

The Commander lowered his sword as though the weight of it had become too much. The sword tip rested on the stone floor as Cullen listened to what the elf was telling him. _His men_ , he grimaced. _Not again._

"Blood magic of this magnitude requires a great deal of power from a great deal of blood. It took thirty soldiers to tear the veil and the intent I believe was to possess either the Inquisitor or those closest to her and assassinate her. But despite the powerful spell cast they were unable to control the Inquisitor's mind, or Cassandra's or mine so it fell to Sera.”

“Sera?” Cullen kicked himself for not seeking the rogue out as soon as they had arrived back at the Keep. _Oh Sera._

“Sera is in trouble Commander as are we all.” Solas nodded.

“What are you saying? Sera has been possessed by a demon?” Dorian looked from Solas to Cullen. Cassandra began to slip from the mage's grip and he struggled to hold both her and his staff.

“Someone be a kind fellow and help me with her,” Dorian tried to stand Cassandra but she was slipping through his arms like a sack of potato's. Iron Bull came to Dorian's aid.

“Here, allow me.” Iron Bull gripped Cassandra’s left arm and in one swift movement the Qunari swung her up and onto his shoulder. He carried her to the bed and set her down. The Seeker groaned aloud before rolling to one side and vomiting the contents of her stomach onto the floor.

“What’s wrong with her?" asked Dorian.

“I believe she is having a reaction to the Lyrium and as I pulled us from the fade rather quickly ...She will recover." Solas concluded.

Now it was Dorian's turn to pace.

"How long will she be like this?" Dorian gesticulated to the sounds of fighting below "Is Sera one of those things down there?"

"My belief is that she managed to resist possession but may have had been mind controlled. Without finding her I cannot be accurately prescriptive. Now I think on it, she was not herself on the return journey to Skyhold. Withdrawn and silent. I hastily believed that she was traumatised by the Inquisitor's condition, not realising that she had unwittingly been the cause of it." said Solas.

"I knew she was acting strangely!” exclaimed Iron Bull.

"Yes well done, who would have thought the Qunari oaf would have had the accumen to diagnose Sera before us all." Dorian glared at the mountain of muscle that was Iron Bull.

"Now, now, don't be sore Dorian." Iron Bull winked, "that's for later."

"Now is hardly the time!" Exclaimed Dorian.

Shouts echoed distantly from the keep below and it served to awaken Cullen from his paralysis. A cacophonous roar meant the demons were drawing near. They were coming for the Inquisitor.

Elspeth.

In the commotion Cullen had not seen that she still lay on the floor sleeping and unmoved.

“Solas,” Cullen snatched out and gripped his wrist. “Why hasn’t she woken up?”

Solas’ eyes were wide with a dread that Cullen had never seen the mage show and it served to ratchet up his own fear tenfold.

“I don’t know Commander.” Solas pulled his arm free of Cullen’s grip and leant beside Elspeth, pulling the blanket from her. A dark liquid spilled on the flagstones, blood.

“No!” shouted Cullen.

He knelt beside the Inquisitor and saw what looked to be a knife wound that had appeared on her thigh where there had not been one before.

“Solas! What’s happening?”

“Sera,” said Solas. “She was in the fade, she was waiting for us. She attacked us, which is why I woke us up. Commander if the waking dreamer dies in the fade, then their body in the here and now will also be killed."

“Wake the Inquisitor up!” demanded Cullen.

“I thought I had Commander.” Solas looked down at Elspeth, his large round eyes glassy with fear. The apostates skin was deathly pale but wet with perspiration. “Sera sleeps somewhere in Skyhold. I must find her physical form. I must find Sera!” and with that the elf raced down the stairs and was gone.

Cullen clicked his fingers at Dorian.

“Fetch me that bed sheet.”

“Sorry my dear,” Dorian whispered to the Seeker.

Dorian pulled the bed sheet from beneath Cassandra who had curled herself into a fetal position, her hands were clasped over her ears tightly as if she were trying to block out some unbearable sound.

Dorian threw the sheet to Cullen and he tore off a long strip of the fabric and tied it around Elspeth’s bleeding leg. The blood soaked through the fabric and so he pulled off another strip and tied the leg again.

“I’m going to need me some help down here!” Varric’s voice reverberated up the stairs and Cullen could hear the fighting drawing closer to the Inquisitors quarters.

“Iron Bull. Dorian. Please. Go. Defend this room with your lives.”

“You’re going to owe me that bottle of wine Commander!” shouted Dorian as both he and Iron Bull vanished down the stairs. He heard Iron Bull's war cry and the rush of flame from Dorian's spell casting as they joined the fray.

Cullen stared at Elspeth. All of his nightmares seemed to be coming to life at once and he felt his sanity slip another notch. He leant down and pressed his lips hard against hers, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to rouse her. He didn’t notice a shadow creep up behind him but he certainly did feel the crack of something hard on the back of his head and as he slumped forward he saw the looming shadow of Cassandra.

“Save the Inquisitor,” she whispered hoarsely and as Cullen fell unconscious, he began to dream.


	13. Dreamwalker

“I win, I win! Mama, I beat Cullen!” the young girl Rosalie sprang away from the table and in her excitement she knocked several intricately painted chess pieces onto the ground. She twirled around the sun speckled courtyard, her fair curls bouncing on her small shoulders like a string of snowbell flowers and Cullen couldn’t help but laugh. Whether red faced and deathly silent in defeat or dancing in delight over her victory, Cullen always thought his little sister was adorable. But he could never bring himself to allow her a win as their father so often did, which meant her victory had been well earned. 

As his sister ran inside the small stone house calling for their mother’s attention, the young Cullen heard the sound of horse hooves approaching and raising from his seat, he peered through a gap in the Roseberry bush that ringed the tiny courtyard beside their home. His breath caught in his throat. 

A small contingent of soldiers, but not those loyal to Redcliffe, rode gleaming mounts that stood several hands higher than any horse Cullen had ever seen. Their shining armour caught a sunbeam and dazzled Cullen, making his eyes water. They wore enormous jagged shoulder protectors and each had a red sash tied around their waist. An emblem was engraved upon the soldiers’ chest-pieces; a sword in flame. Cullen looked on, his mouth gaping. One of the soldiers pulled his helm from his shoulders, his hair was darkened with sweat and his coarse beard was worn close to his face. He turned in his saddle and his horse whinnied softly.

“You there!” His tone was commanding. Cullen felt his feet root themselves to the ground. “I can see you boy, come out from there.”

“Yes Ser.” Cullen’s voice sounded un-naturally high and he coughed to clear his throat. He walked from behind the bushes and onto the dirt track. One of the horses shuffled, its massive hooves making deep impressions even in the dried mud and Cullen took a wary step backwards. He shaded his eyes with one hand as he peered up at them. 

“What can I do for you Ser?” Cullen asked finding his voice. The soldier swung one leg over his horse with some effort and dropped to the floor, the metal plating on his shins jangling as he landed. Like the horses, the man towered above Cullen.

“We have ridden far, it is a hot day and I would ask for a cup of water for myself and my fellow Templars.” The Templar looked beyond Cullen to his house, “can you help us my lad?”

“Yes Ser!” 

A large wooden pail of water sat beside the open doorway and beside it a small round bowl. Cullen dipped the bowl into the water and filled it to the brim and lifted it up to the dark haired Soldier. The man drank deeply and once he had had his fill he poured the remainder over his head.

Cullen was only too happy to assist the Templars. He had never seen a contingent, even one as small as this, up close before. Whenever word spread that Templars were travelling through Honnleath, Cullen would abandon his duties with his brothers and run to the village to catch a sight of these magnificent soldiers of the Chantry. But he usually missed them or would catch sight of them as small bright flecks on the horizon as they continued on to their business at Redcliffe.

“More for my companions if you would be so kind…” The Templar Commander passed the small bowl back to Cullen who eagerly dunked it back into the bucket.

He handed the refilled bowl up to the second soldier who drank and passed it to a third. Now that their helms had been removed Cullen saw that this third Templar was a woman, she had short thick hair that was the shocking colour of overly-ripened strawberries and her cheeks were flushed by the heat. Cullen stared at her as she drank. Her eyes were half-closed and some of the water spilled from her mouth and ran down her throat. 

“There is a well in the centre of the town if your horses need to drink, I can show you if you’d like.” Cullen offered.

The lady knight wiped her mouth with her fingers and Cullen blushed as they brushed his own when she handed him the empty bowl. She gave him a curt nod of thanks.

The Templar soldier in charge coughed politely and Cullen turned to him. 

“We would be most grateful for the assistance, I thank you.” Cullen thought he saw one corner of the dark haired Templars mouth upturn in a smile for the briefest of moments.

Cullen led the Templars through the centre of Honnleath, past the Chantry temple and to the Stone Statue that marked the centre of the village. Beside it stood an old water pump and a deep trough that was filled with fresh water. A fat chicken perched on the side of the trough and Cullen shooed it away as they neared, the chicken squawked at the disruption but quickly resumed its habitual pecking at the dusty dry ground. The soldiers dismounted and as soon as they had the horses approached the water with no further encouragement and began drinking. Most of the water seemed to fall from their great mouths onto the ground and a sprinkling of daisies grew around the base of the trough for this very reason.

With one hand resting on the flank of her great steed, the lady Templar scooped up a handful of water and splashed her face. It was a hot day and Cullen could feel his tunic begin to stick uncomfortably to his back. He walked over to the water trough and dipped the tips of his fingers into the cool water. A small bee buzzed around the horse’s heads making their ears flick to and fro. The Templar watched him silently.

“Have you travelled far?” Cullen asked the Templar.

“Yes.”

The woman squinted in the midday sun and Cullen could see small gold flecks held in suspension in her brown eyes. She turned and looked directly at him and the intensity of her gaze made him look away.

Cullen swirled his hand in the water and he felt like less of the man his father told him he was growing up to be and more like the little boy his mother sought to retain. He struggled to think of something to say despite his mind racing with questions. 

“How long have you been a Temp - “

“Commander Perville!” A shrill yell broke the relative calm at the water pump. A member of the Chantry that Cullen did not recognise ran at full pelt down the incline from the direction of the temple, his thick skirts threatening to fall under his feet and make him stumble.

“Commander Perville! Thank goodness, there you are!” The priest dragged in great lungfuls of air to replenish those lost in his haste.

The dark haired Templar, presumably Perville, stepped to the priest and using both hands he gripped the man on both shoulders, holding him to his feet.

“I am Perville, were you the one who sent for us?”

“Yes, yes…I...am…” the priest was not old but neither was he particularly young and despite his lithe-like appearance, the man was clearly not used to physical activity. Droplets of sweat strung across his forehead like glass beads.

“Davernes! You are here to arrest Davernes, Maker bless you!” the words tumbled from the man's lips and Cullen’s ears pricked up when he heard Davernes’ name. Everyone in Honnleath knew Ser Davernes; he was a jovial and wealthy landowner who owned a great swathe of highly fertile farmland, sandwiched on one side by the Kokkiri wilds and the impassable highlands to the east.

“We sent an emissary from the Chantry three days ago to Pricklefarm and have seen not hide nor hair of the boy since.”

“You should not have sent anyone Chancellor. You may have given this Davernes reason to suspect we are onto him and given his apostates chance to flee.”

_Apostates!_ thought Cullen and a trill of excitement passed through him. 

The Chantry officiate held a hand over his gaping mouth.

“You don’t think they would have killed the lad do you? Maker preserve him! Not even Davernes would go so far…would he?”

The Chancellor gripped both bony hands onto Commander Perville’s wrist guard and hope strained by fear loomed large in his eyes. Cullen wondered at the man, he seemed more child than adult.

“You lad, what was your name?” Commander Perville addressed Cullen and he stood a little straighter.

“It’s Cullen Ser. Cullen Rutherford.”

“Do you know in which direction Daverne’s farmland lays?”

“Yes Ser. I can show you if you like.” Cullen knew he should return home but when the prospect of hunting apostates with in-the-flesh Templars presented itself, he wanted to be nowhere else.

 

Cullen walked ahead of the small contingent of Templars. He had to walk quickly to avoid the great steeds trampling on the back of his heel. He fantasised about owning his own horse, shield, sword and armour and charging onto the farmstead to do battle with demon twisted apostates. If he had only known, he would have slipped away days ago to take a look at these mages gone rogue for himself. 

Everyone in the region, including Cullen, knew of the stories about Ser Davernes. They laid claim that he and his land had been blessed by the Maker. The local bard often sang of it and made good coin in doing so;

>   
>  The good man Davernes grows his grain,  
>  he grows fat and rich in his reign.  
>  Plump braids as yellow as the sun,  
>  at Prickletree Farm they are spun.  
>  The good man Davernes, walks amongst the strands of sheaf  
>  and his every touch coats the plaits with gold leaf.  
>  The Maker smiles upon Ser Davernes  
>  and his gentle breeze sways the wheat in patterns –  
>  like Andraste’s golden mane,  
>  the good man Davernes grows his grain.  
> 

Ser Ferdrund Davernes' crops were always hardy and plentiful but when wheat crops had failed across the entire region after a particularly waterlogged spring, sheafs on his land had grown tall and fat. During last year’s bitter winter when a pack of starving wolves were driven to the valley, it was Daverne’s flocks that had survived when the sheep on fields further to the south had been found striped clean of flesh, their bones gleaming white in the blood smeared snow. It now seemed obvious to Cullen that there had been mages working on his farm and in plain sight of the Chantry as well. Surely they had known that it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

The soft golden fields of Prickletree farm spread out before them, each interlocking with the other like patches on a quilt. There was only one road to the farmhouse and it wound its way haphazardly amidst the contours of the hedge-line, dipping into and out of view. Commander Perville pulled his horse beside Cullen.

“Cullen, we thank you for your assistance and for delivering us this far. But we must now continue on without you.”

“But, I can take you up to the farmhouse….”

“That won’t be necessary. It will be dark soon and I am sure your family is beginning to wonder where you are.” Perville gave Cullen a warm smile. “We will not forget the help you have given us today.” 

Before Cullen could complain, Commander Perville dug his heels into his horses flank and moved off. The lady Templar turned as she passed by Cullen.

“Thank you for the water, Cullen was it?” 

Cullen blushed at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Yes,” he stammered.

As she began to move off Cullen shouted after her, emboldened by her gratitude.

“What was your name?” 

She twisted in her saddle.

“Sera. My name is Sera.”

Something gripped inside Cullen’s chest. It was the familiar fluttering's of dread. _Sera._

He had the distinct feeling that there was something very important that he should be doing but he struggled to recall what that thing was. It was like trying to recall the name of a long ago seen face; the word danced loosely on the tip of the tongue refusing to be born and instead being swallowed back by the pillowy sensation that was forgetfulness. _What have I forgotten?_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now he was alone.

He did not want to return home as he had once as a young boy, kicking the stones all the way back to Honnleath. _But I am not a boy any longer,_ he rationalised to himself. This time he chose to stay and to help the Templars. He was grown now after all and a Templar just like them. He gripped the long sword that he now found in his right hand as if had been there all along. He felt strong and he liked it. Such was the fade for the dreamer. 

Cullen began to jog lightly along the dirt track, being careful to pick his feet up enough to take into account the weight of his armour and avoid tripping. If you fell in armour it was never easy to get back up again without help. But the weight didn’t seem to affect him at all.

The sprawling farm buildings dropped into view and Cullen pulled his shield from his shoulder and readied it. As he drew closer Cullen heard a low crackling sound that he knew meant magic was being drawn somewhere close by. He crouched low to the ground as a fireball flew from an open window in the main house, over his head and stuck a bush behind causing it to burst into flame. He heard a horrific scream come from inside the building and Cullen charged across the threshold. 

Turning from one stone corridor to another Cullen found the Templars stood at the far end of the great hall of Skyhold. He did not question it. The Inquisition banners that hung high bore the signs of battle and the corners were singed from their proximity to a magical attack. Two of the Templars stood en-guard, swords pointed towards the Skyhold Throne beside which stood a hooded apostate. The third Templar sat propped against a table leg and his youthful features were corrupted by pain as thick dark blood soaked into his red sash. The other mage lay flat out on a patch of grass behind the Templars; grass that did not, in that moment, seem out of place. A blue sheet had been laid over the corpse and a pooling of blood had begun to seep into the fabric making it darker still.

“Stand down you monster!” Shouted Perville to the last standing rogue mage. This apostate was a woman and she stalked behind the throne looking to the doors at either side of the great hall as if seeking an escape. She pressed one hand to her thigh as the scarlet of blood stained her pale skin. She was injured and she was trapped.

Cullen took position beside the lady Templar and she nodded to him as he took his place by her side. Her face seemed different and her hair no longer the colour of strawberries was fair. Points at the tips of her ears marked her out as an elf. She no longer wielded a sword but held before her two wicked looking daggers. One had a mean-looking protrusion halfway along the blade which Cullen knew was to cause maximum damage when it stabbed into soft human flesh. The elf’s mouth was pulled into a snarl and she crouched low like a cat ready to pounce onto a mouse and devour it. Despite the fearsome look etched onto her face, Cullen noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Cullen, is that you?” Cullen snapped his head up and stared at the apostate mage. _How can it be that she knows my name?_

The mage pushed the hood from her head and her chesnut hair fell about her shoulders in waves. Whoever she was she was beautiful and there was something knowing in the way she returned his gaze. Her attention darted to Commander Perville and the elf before resting back on him. She held up one hand, palm straight up to Cullen as if inviting him to step over to her side.

“Cullen, you’re dreaming. This isn’t real…” Her voice was familiar. _Perhaps she had been a mage in the circle at Fereldon. Perhaps…_

“Silence Demon!” Spit flew from Perville’s mouth. “Do not listen to her Cullen! The demon is trying to confuse you.”

“It’s me, it’s Elspeth. You know me. I am your Inquisitor. Please!” The apostate seemed to be begging him. He noticed that the injury to her thigh was spilling more blood and she winced.

“Perhaps she will come with us peacefully.” Cullen looked to Perville and the elf; he just needed a moment to consider.

“No!” screeched the elf Sera. She leapt at the apostate, her daggers raised high in the air like the jagged teeth of some great beast. 

A bubble, with the iridescent colour and texture of a dragonfly wing, expanded in the space between the apostate and her attacker. The mage fell to the ground as the dagger points hit the surface of her spell-cast shield, the sound not unlike that of two swords striking in battle. Sparks flew into the air from the impact and a cacophonous boom from high above made the windows up and down the hall shatter into a thousand pieces.

Cullen crouched and pulled his shield above his head just as a block of stone fell the long distance from the ceiling above and smashed into him. He yelled as the stone impacted on his shield, causing his shoulder to jar.

“Cullen!” The apostate called to him again, her voice strained by terror. 

Commander Perville and the Templar elf Sera were striking the apostates shield with their weapons. Each hit seemed to make more stone-work in the great hall fall, the head from the statue of a proud knight rolled from its body and cracks began to form in the vaulted ceiling high above. 

“Cullen! What are you seeing? You are dreaming Cullen! But Sera and I are not. She has been taken over and is trying to kill me Cullen.” 

“Lies!” Perville spat again, his face warped and twisted by hatred. “Help us destroy this beast Cullen or she will possess us all!”

The apostate fell to the ground with a cry and her shield began to shimmer as if the spell were faltering. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose and as Cullen looked on he felt a mounting sense of panic.

“Wait!” he commanded to the Templars but they continued striking the shield like hammers on an anvil.

“If I die in the fade Cullen, I die in Skyhold. Please…” her voice was little more than a whisper but it cut through the noise of the great hall as it fell to pieces.

With a blast of cold air the shield finally gave way and the apostate now on her knees looked up at her executors. There were tears fresh and burning in her eyes. Time appeared to slow and she looked to Cullen and smiled a sad smile.

“I love you,” whispered Elspeth.

_Elspeth._

“No!” yelled Cullen.

The realisation of what was truly happening here was sudden and acute. The blades were falling to strike Elspeth but Cullen was awakened to the fact that this was _his_ dream. He moved at a speed no man in life could achieve and launched himself at Elspeth, shoving her to the ground as the blades made to bite into her flesh. Instead the blades chipped into Cullen’s armour. The maelstrom behind them came to a head, lightening stuck the flagstones and the floor began to raise into the air as if the keep itself was being pulled apart.

Cullen held onto Elspeth, covering as much of her body as he could with his own.

There was a sudden deafening silence and a whisper that he felt rather than heard.

_**Kiss her quick before she turns to stone. __**It was Sera's voice._

He held Elspeth’s face gently in his hands and his thumbs wiped away her tears as the veil around them was being torn to shreds like webbing.

He softly laid his lips against her own.

And they woke up.


	14. The Morning After

The Inquisitors bed chamber swam into vision as Cullen awoke amidst a flood of pain that emanated from a spot at the base of his skull. He reached one hand around his neck and pressed his fingers lightly on the tender lump that had formed there. Wonderful - who needs enemies when you have friends like Cassandra?

“A sleeping draught might have sufficed Seeker. Maker knows I was tired enough to fall asleep of my own volition…” Cullen pushed himself onto his elbows with a groan and sought to stymie the onslaught of dizziness by staring at a fixed point on the far wall. “…One might think that you had an axe to grind.”

Cullen eyed the Seeker.

Cassandra stood by the Inquisitor’s bed. She held aloft one of the bed sheets. Taking a corner in each hand, she pulled and the sheet tore down the middle with a loud rip. She knelt by the Inquisitor and began wrapping another makeshift bandage around her injured leg.

“Not too tight…” Urged Elspeth who was also awake and, Merciful Maker, was alive. Cassandra pulled hard on the ends of the knot she had made. The Inquisitor bit her lip to stifle a yell. 

“Thank you.” Elspeth grimaced.

Standing, Cassandra tossed back her head and Cullen was reminded of his sister during a losing streak.

“Listen, both of you. While you have been off dreaming of each another…literally! The Great Hall has been overrun with demons and in the meantime I’ve been forced to sit up here and babysit like a Fereldon wet-nurse!” 

“You’re angry.” Said Elspeth in a small voice.

“Worse!” Cassandra stood above them both, her hands on her hips. “…I was worried and you know that I hate to worry.”

Cullen struggled to find his feet and so Cassandra, demonstrating at least an iota of remorse for striking him, offered her hand. The two of them then helped Elspeth to standing. Cullen cupped the Inquisitor's face with both hands and looked into her eyes. 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I bet you thought the week spent at the Winter Palace was bad?” Elspeth smiled a half smile. “But honestly? I’ll feel better when this is all over and I can go back to saving the World.”

She stumbled to the wooden banister and looked to the door below. 

“We need to save Sera, find a way to break the mind control, if we can.”

“And just how do we do that?” Cassandra asked.

Elspeth turned to face them. 

“Like any spell it can be broken.”

“Yes,” agreed Cullen “At the root of any magic, even blood magic, there is the spell-caster.”

"A blood mage.” Said Cassandra.

Elspeth nodded.

“A powerful one.”

“We kill this blood mage and the mind control will break.” Cullen attested.

“And how exactly do we do that?” Cassandra threw her hands into the air, frustrated. “Our regiment was sacrificed hundreds of miles from here, for all we know, the blood mage set their assassination plan into action and watches from afar to see what happens next!”

There was something about Cullen’s dream that came to mind.

“In my dream I was a boy again.”

“Spare us the dream chat Cullen, I have enough of it from Leliana.” Grumbled Cassandra but Cullen ignored her and his voice softened as he spoke.

“I was a boy again, Templars were tracking a band of apostate mages that had taken up residence at a local farmstead, as they had when I was young. I remember the Templar Commander who led the mission, he was a portly man called Jeffries. Alton Jeffries. It was he my father persuaded to allow me to join the Templars at age 15.”

“Of what relevance is this Cullen?” Cassandra’s eyes flashed ice blue.

“The Templar in my dream was not Jeffries, instead, it was a man called Perville. He was tall, taller than I, he had very dark hair…”

“…And a black beard.” Elspeth finished his sentence. She moved to stand before him and her fingers lightly pressed themselves into his hands. The nonchalent, casual intimacy of the act left him giddy with a joy he could not fully appreciate at this present moment.

“Cullen,” said Elspeth as her dark eyes bore into his own “I did not see these other elements of your dream, there were no Templars…but Sera was not alone. There was a man with her. It was he who was trying to convince you that I was to be killed as an apostate. Thankfully you did not listen to him and saw through his deception.”

It seemed as though the pieces of the puzzle were finally beginning to fall into place to reveal the final scene. His heart began to thud as the realisation dawned on him -

“Then he must physically be in Skyhold to have been able to find you in the fade as Sera did.”

Elspeth smiled her agreement, her fingers tightening around his own. Cassandra who had been calmly listening, sprang to attention.

“Then this Perville is our blood mage and he is here!” She said.

The Seeker turned to face the exit just as some large weight hit the wooden door causing the oak to splinter in the middle and dust and flotsam to be disturbed from the ceiling above and rain down upon them. The fight, it seemed, was just beyond.

“The difficulty will be ensuring that Sera is not hurt, so if anyone has ideas?” Cullen asked, as he began to climb down the steps, expecting no answer.

“Don’t hit her with your sword.” Muttered Cassandra.


	15. All Things Must End

The scene that greeted the trio in the Great Hall was one of horror. Several charred bodies lay sizzling on the stone slabs and their stiff blackened hands were aflame before faces that had melted away to bone.

The bodies were those of Inquisition guards but a few were without armour, servants and dignitaries alike; innocent bystanders who had come to Skyhold hoping for protection. A buzzing sound filled Cullen’s ears and he sucked in a breath through a throat that had already begun to close in on itself.

At the far end of the Great Hall the bright frost of Solas’ distant spellcasting, cracked ice over the splintered wood of broken tables and debris like a glittering blanket. They had entered the maelstrom of battle. 

A burst of flame shot high into the air and there was a loud crack from above. Cullen grasped onto Elspeth’s sleeve and they both leapt to one side as a stone fell from the vaulted ceiling. It smashed into large fragments on the flagstones beside them.

Cassandra charged towards the other end of the hall. Iron Bull was already there and the Qunari swung his great axe about his head in wide arcs as a swell of dark shapes closed in around him.

Varric stood precariously on a fallen statue close to the entrance to the hall. He fired off arrows in quick succession into the flailing mass of demons. A demon roared as an arrow thudded into its flesh in flux. 

The possessed soldier had all but fallen away to reveal the monster in full. Torn remnants of the soldiers Inquisition uniform was caked into the demons skin and they flapped about like the wings of tiny panicked birds.

Beside Cullen, Elspeth’s diamond headed staff sparkled with crystal runes as she pushed her magic into the spindle wood and cast protection wards over the closest companions. A faint glow buzzed around Cassandra as she swung her sword at the bulbously jointed limbs of an envy demon.

“So it is here that you reside Commander Rutherford.”

The man’s voice startled Cullen and he swivelled, sword in hand to face him.

It was the Templar from his dream. Perville.

His black hair and beard was longer than it had appeared to Cullen in his dream and a series of vicious scars criss-crossed his bare arms. Perville gripped a twisted staff of ebony weir-wood in a bone white knuckled grip and it thrummed with power.

A hooded figure moved from behind the Skyhold throne and stepped beside the blood mage. Cullen did not need to see the face to know that it was Sera.

A sheer blue gauze tainted his vision for a moment and he felt the reassuring presence of Elspeth’s protection spell.

“Sera…” Elspeth beseeched.

The Inquisitor took half a step towards the elf and Cullen went to pull her back. 

The blood mage laughed and as he did, Sera appeared to mimic him. Her laughter, however, was higher in pitch and discordant with his. It was as if the sound travelled through her but did not truly come from her. Elspeth and Sera often laughed together and often at Cullen’s expense. This laughter did not sound like that, it rang hollow.

As Cullen and the Inquisitor looked on, Perville drew one sharpened fingernail across his forearm and his blood bubbled to the surface in a long thin line. Sera appeared to copy him, but instead of a fingernail she sliced the pointed tip of her dagger across her own forearm deeply and blood trickled like water. It dripped from the tips of her fingers onto the ground.

“Let her go.” Cullen’s words were low and rumbled from his chest.

“And why would I do that old friend?” Perville said, smiling. “She has been a most useful ally, albeit one who managed to fight the demon I had invited to have her. I had to be satisfied with controlling her mind and… even now she fights me.” The blood mage said, his fingers pressing hard against his temples.

Sera’s face beneath her hood was a mask of -dare Cullen think it- tranquillity!

But the blood mage had already given away too much. Sera was still in there, scratching at the walls of her own mind, he knew it.

 _Fight Sera, fight him,_ Cullen thought.

Elspeth shook her head. “Then it was Sera who attacked me at the camp. And all the while she was under your control.”

Perville ignored Elspeth and directed his answer to Cullen.

“This is why your Inquisitor still lives Commander - Your elf assassin would not assassinate for me, merely maim. But she and the others did lead me here…and that is all I have wanted.” Perville’s eyes flashed darkly. “You have been hiding from me,” he whispered.

Cullen’s own eyes narrowed.

“Cullen…” warned Elspeth.

The blood mage looked from Cullen to the Inquisitor and back again and his crooked smile vanished, replaced by a sneer.

“If only you had killed your Inquisitor in the fade as I had asked, I may have released this one…” Perville reached to Sera and ran the back of his free hand across her cheek, smearing remnants of his blood across her face.

Sera remained inert.

Perville barked a laugh of indignation.

“Trust you to fall in love with your Inquisitor!” - It was more of an accusation that an observation. “...is it the forbidden fruit of the mage that tempts you Templar? For I am detecting a pattern.”

_Templar…_

“Who are you?” Cullen growled.

As Cullen spoke, the blood that had pooled on the floor began to rise like a curtain of red mist. Perville pulled the life force from the fluid as easily as Elspeth took magic for spell casting from the fade.

“Consider this your harrowing _Templar_ ….” Perville screamed “…for I am _your_ executioner!”

The blood mage directed his staff at Cullen and his spell broke through the dying shell of Elspeth’s shield.

Cullen felt a deep prickling sensation beneath his armour. He yelled and lunged at Perville who fell back to allow Sera the riposte in his defence.

Sera’s daggers slid along the length of Cullen’s blade and white hot sparks flew from the contact.

She deftly rolled to the side of Cullen and darted forward, aiming the tip of her blade to the small gap at the underarm of his armour….  
A fork of lightning struck Sera in the chest and she was thrown backwards into a pile of debris.

Elspeth had cast the spell and she wavered on unsteady feet. Injured as she was; she was tiring easily.

They locked eyes with one another for a moment.

Cullen felt it then; it was if an invisible hand had reached through his breastplate and squeezed his heart flat. The pain was excruciating and his sword fell from his hands with a heavy clatter. He brought both hands to his chest and pulling at the metal shielding, he fell to his knees, gasping for a respite that did not come.

“Cullen!” Elspeth cried out.

The vital fluid in his veins began to grow hot as a blood vessel in his right eye popped and his vision in that eye was lost to a sea of red. He felt the life force being drained from him just as his body was simultaneously filled with draconic heat.

Elspeth threw herself at the blood mage with a pained cry. A ghostly sword of pure energy materialised in her hands and it swept through Perville’s body. He was forced back against the far wall and as his concentration broke, the blood wound spell was halted.

The heat was gone from Cullen as quickly as it had built and he dragged in lungful’s of air. He could taste his own blood, metallic and sharp, and a trickle of blood ran from his nose. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. Cullen’s nerves jangled from the subsiding pain and he clambered to his feet.

“I want to see you beg for your life Templar! As he did!” Perville spat.

“Who am I to you?” Cullen’s breathing was laboured.

“…Is it Corypheus you serve?” Elspeth demanded.

Perville’s shrewd eyes swivelled in their sockets to scrutinise the Inquisitor and despite her fatigue she stood a little straighter. His hatred for her was evident.

Cullen balled his hands into fists for he knew that this fight was not yet over.

“Your threat to him grows,” said Perville to Elspeth. “Corypheus has turned his eyes to you Inquisitor, you and your pathetic army.”

The blood mage bared all of his teeth as he flung the words at her like shards of glass. 

“He wishes to see its pretender, this _Herald of Andraste_ …” Perville circled his hand about her form with a mocking flourish, “…dead. Your skull dashed against your own throne by your own forces. Possessing your Lieutenants and controlling you was my method. I was to throw the Inquisition into chaos and watch as it was ripped to pieces from within, by you. What a sweet tonic it would have been to see your Commander Rutherford snap as his world fell apart yet again - So you see for a time, Corphyeus’ goal and my own ran parallel.”

“And yet here we are.” Cullen probed, desperate for answers to the dozens of questions that now raced through his mind. “The Inquisition still stands. What went wrong?”

“Would that I knew! That there was a Seeker of Truth in the camp proved particularly bothersome. Her immunity to possession and mind-control was…unexpected.”

Perville took half a step closer to Cullen.

“You should know that the sacrifice required to possess your men and control your elf assassin here, was particularly violent.” Perville appeared to relish each word as he spoke them. “Your soldier’s screamed for mercy - for their wives, their husbands and lovers. ‘Please…’ they begged me ‘my children’…”

Cullen’s blood thudded in his ears.

“…and the youngest amongst them begged for life; for experiences as yet un-tasted. The feel of a lover...the taste of passion. Denied to them, by you. Does that hurt you to know? That it was you who sent them? You, who knew only too well the danger you sent them towards.”

“Don’t listen to him Cullen,” begged Elspeth, “this was not your fault. He is the killer not you.”

“Say that to Nethryth!” screamed Perville.

Cullen’s eyes flew wide with understanding. He knew in that moment who this apostate was.

And who he had been…

The blood mage’s body then seemed to grow and his limbs extended beyond that of a human male into great veiny branches. His jaw cracked and splintered and reset itself larger. Then so too did the other joints in his human body. Cullen and Elspeth recoiled in horror as the man’s body was reset into something wholly un-natural.

The Inquisitor raised her staff but she was now within reach of the demon, and what had been Perville mere seconds ago, swung its taloned claw into her flank.

Elspeth flew several feet into the air and across the rostrum.

She landed awkwardly.

Cullen shouted a warning but too late. Blood trickled from the wound at her hairline as her stitches were knocked open. She tried to stand once, twice… then collapsed onto the stone floor, her energy spent.

“Your fight is with me Perville. _Leave her!_ ” Cullen’s sword was already back in his hand.

The man/demon studied Cullen for a moment. Then the beast threw back its great head and a sound like that of wood splintering on rocks bellowed forth from the creature. It was laughing!

“Your name was not always Perville...” Cullen said. He and the demon began to circle one another as the fighting raged on in the hall behind them.

“And what izzzz my name, killer Rutherford?” The blood mage was all but unrecognisable now and the demon’s great tongue snaked inches from its huge jaws, making its words difficult to comprehend.

“You were a Senior Enchanter at the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold when I was a young Templar there.” The memories burned white hot in Cullen’s mind. He did not enjoy the remembering.

As Cullen spoke, he stole a glance at Elspeth but she remained unmoving on the ground. His stomach clenched, the fear on his face writ large. 

_Maker be merciful! Please..._

He snapped his attention back to the demon before him.

“Your name was Edgar. I remember.” Cullen continued speaking and the muscles in his sword arm were heavy with the anticipation of administering a killing blow. 

“You taught the art of atrophy to the Junior Mages. It was the Hero of Fereldon who, more than ten years ago in the Circle Tower, saved you from Uldrid’s plan to turn you all into abominations.”

The demon clapped its great clawed hands together in what looked to be an expression of delight. 

“Unknowing as she was, she saved ussss and let ussss go.” The sibilant voice of the demon made Cullen’s ears itch.

 _So a demon had crept through all those years ago_ , thought Cullen.

“Annnd if in her place, what would you hafff done Templar?”

Cullen was ashamed to remember the words he had spoken then, no matter the validation of them in the here and now. To demand the deaths of so many innocents for the chance of one abomination was…wrong.

“What I bore witness to in the Circle at Kinloch Hold I would wish upon no other,” Cullen said. “I begged the Hero of Fereldon to kill the mage survivors. I believed that it would have been a better thing for all of the mages to die, even the untainted, than risk abominations. Than risk you.”

Cullen recognised the ambition and then, the fear that had made him cruel and un-forgiving as a younger man. That man would never have accepted the authority of a mage-turned-Inquisitor who lived outside of the Circle _or_ of allying with apostates. That was a man who had been incapable of truly loving another.

“I had waited on the other side of the veil in that place for ssssoooo long, waiting to pass into the world. To be spirit made flesh.” The demon’s red eyes flashed darkly. “It was I who tempted the Elf boy. I was so close to the world but you ssssstole him from me!” the demon wailed.

“Nethryth.” Whispered Cullen.

Nethryth who was the first mage executed by Cullen upon failing his Harrowing. The elf’s face flashed into his mind's eye. That smile. So confident. Nethryth’s death had been Cullen’s first mistake. One he had never atoned for, until this day.

“Yesss. The Elf was sssso powerful!” the demons tongue roiled over the words and an inky black substance dripped from its tip.

Cullen squeezed the steel grip of his sword in his hand. 

“So this is why you hunt me Demon? Because I kept you from possessing an Elf mage more than ten years ago? Yet now you seek me out in your new form to punish me…I want to know…Why?”

The demon Perville howled. The sound of it was that of a thousand hearts breaking, as though this monster was a conduit for the grief and pain of the man it had possessed. The beast seemed to falter and Cullen saw his moment to attack and yet he did not take it. 

The demon spoke but the voice was that of the man Perville and not the monster.

“I cared for the boy, don’t you see? I taught him all I knew. We spent weeks together as I prepared him for his Harrowing. But he was too young! I knew that. I told Irving that he was not ready but such was their confidence in him. No-one had failed a Harrowing for over a year. But I knew!” his eyes no longer shone red and his body appeared smaller and more human, as if the man had wrestled control back away from the demon. As if by sharing this form, they also shared the loss of Nethryth… _and_ the need for vengeance.

“You knew he would fail too Templar!" Peville sobbed. "I came to you, do you not remember? I begged you to speak up, to tell Knight-Commander Greagoir that you feared the boy was not ready…and yet you said nothing…You did nothing!”

Distantly, Cullen heard loud bellows from both Varric and Dorian as the battle in the Great Hall raged on behind them.

Cullen lowered his sword.

“…You are right Perville, I should have stopped Nethryth’s Harrowing. I could have…” his words failed him.

A shadow from out of the corner of his eye made Cullen start and as he swung around he fell into a defensive stance.

Sera had crept behind him and stood within striking distance. Her hood had fallen to her shoulders and silent tears dripped from the tip of her nose onto the floor. But mind controlled as she was they were Perville’s tears. She looked a truly pitiful creature.

Cullen backed away and to the side so that both Sera and Perville were visible; lest he be overwhelmed from behind. He flicked his eyes towards Elspeth for a brief moment. She was conscious and that was something.

“Please...I beg of you.” He addressed Perville and turned his gaze upon Sera. “Release Sera from your spell. It is I who failed the boy. It is I who deserves censure and it is I who should be punished.”

Cullen then locked eyes with Elspeth though he spoke to Perville.

“This is between me and you. I offer my life for theirs.” Cullen whispered.

“No!” Elspeth shouted and she tried to stand again but her wounded leg buckled beneath her and she failed in the attempt. “Cullen! Don’t you dare…That is an order!”

Her staff flickered with magic and then went out as if even the simplest of spells was beyond her. She grasped at her belt looking for a potion of lyrium but she had none.

Cullen turned, offering his back to the mind controlled Sera and faced Perville. The blood mage looked almost human, as if the man had subdued the demon.

Cullen heard Elspeth shouting to Cassandra and Dorian – ‘to help’, ‘to hurry’. But solemnly, Cullen knew that they did not hear her and his thoughts were not on rescue but on making reparations.

The Templar’s were an instrument of justice and protection in a world that did not know how to handle the power that magic wrought. But he had broken both those edicts of justice and protection at the very beginning and had walked from then, he now saw, a corrupted path all his own. He had been as corrupted as any maleficar. He felt that it was wholly right that he should pay for his crimes.

He ran his spare hand through his hair and exhaled slowly. He walked it through in his mind, step by step.

The Inquisition would continue without him. No more nightmares. No more pain. No more panic. In a way, it was a relief.

He felt Sera step to him and he heard the squeak of leather as she squeezed the grip of her dagger. _I had that dagger made for her_ , Cullen smiled despite himself.

In one fluid motion Sera leapt and, twisting in the air, she flew away from Cullen and towards Perville. The blood mage closed his eyes as she slid the jagged blade across his throat. The skin there rolled back as hot blood gushed forth, splashing onto the cold stones at his feet.

Perville’s eyes snapped open and for a moment they were blazing red. His body had begun to take on its demon shape again, even as the blood fell, as if the beast fought to keep life held captive. But it was a losing battle.

The demon uttered a guttural blood wet roar and raised its great trunk-like arms into the air. Then it fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

Sera screamed.

It was the scream of a child stuck in the midst of a night terror that she cannot find her way out of.

She threw her dagger at the dead mass of demon flesh and it bounced off of it and onto the floor with a clang. Then she dropped to her knees and began to cry, great heart wrenching sobs that wracked through her slight form.

Cullen stepped to her and tenderly he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Behind them, Cullen heard jubilant whoops from a battle freshly won. Then no sooner had the celebration begun than it quietened.

All was silent, save for the sounds of Sera’s crying that seemed to echo to the other end of the Great Hall and back.

The companions, their clothing torn and blood stained, waited at a distance.

They stood solemn and unmoving.

The spell was broken.


End file.
